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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470400">sun's seen through my eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia'>cecropia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Last Chapter), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Childhood, Coming Out, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Mentions of Suicide, Name-Calling, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pillow Talk, Rating May Change, Tinder, chapter-specific warnings are in author's notes, kids being kids, mentions of an eating disorder, mentions of self harm, suicide ideation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s that?” Connor asks immediately. When Evan looks up, his eyes are still narrowed. </p><p>Evan has to shut his eyes shut real tight to be able to say anything. </p><p>“Um… it’s… it’s for you.”</p><p>Connor just blinks at him. After that, his eyes are wide, almost with confusion. “It’s for me?”</p><p>(Evan's having a birthday party.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Hansen &amp; Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen &amp; Heidi Hansen, Evan Hansen &amp; Jared Kleinman, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, implied Zoe/Alana - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>434</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. third grade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WOW I'M POSTING WHAT IS THIS APRIL 1ST<br/>hi hello friends!!! whassup how y'all doin</p><p>basically,,,, childhood friends to lovers au!! not sure how many chapters there will be but uhhh yeah hopefully inspiration hits me more than one time in the next like year!!!<br/>pls tell me what y'all think and if u think i should continue this! love u and thanks for reading &lt;3333</p><p>(sidenote: I am aware that JKR is trash. pls don't come for me)</p><p>come talk to me! c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a on tumblr :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t take a lot to make Evan Hansen cry. </p><p> </p><p>Some girl from another homeroom smiled at him in the hallway yesterday with such malice that he ran into the boy’s bathroom and collided head-first with his reading teacher, Mr. Fuller, and they had a very stern conversation about why he shouldn’t let people get him down like that because he’s a strong boy and girls aren’t worth it anyway, not at his age. </p><p> </p><p>Which only made him cry harder, because that wasn’t even the <em> point </em>. </p><p> </p><p>So as he stands in front of his mom, arms crossed and lip quivering, looking away so the tears stop pricking at his eyes, he decides that he will not cry. Not this time. Evan is going to be strong. </p><p> </p><p>“You <em> have </em> to, honey. How would you feel if someone invited all of the boys except you?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan bites down on his lip. </p><p> </p><p>“Not good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” She kneels down so that she’s level with him, pressing the invitations into his hand. “I know you and Connor don’t get along, but I need you to work with me, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan blinks hard, avoiding his mom’s eyes. “But he’s <em> mean </em> , mom. Jillian said he beat up his dad last year. What if— what if he beats m— <em> me </em> up?”</p><p> </p><p>His mother gives him a half-smile and he’s not sure why, because it’s a serious situation. He feels his lip quiver again. Grown-ups just don’t get it. “Not Jillian again.” She puts her hand on his knee. “I will make sure he doesn’t beat you up, Evan. And I would bet money that silly Jillian girl was just trying to scare you again, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan doesn’t say anything. He presses his mouth into a flat line and tries to mind-control the tears welling up in his eyes to go back to where they came from.</p><p> </p><p>He hasn’t practiced his mind-control enough yet. </p><p> </p><p>Someday. </p><p> </p><p>His mom waits until he’s looking at her before talking again. </p><p> </p><p>“When you go to school tomorrow, I want you to give Connor the invitation just like you do with every other boy, okay? I <em> promise </em> he won’t hurt you. And if you get too scared, just give it to Miss Berkhaur and she’ll give it to Connor.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan can just imagine it. He’ll give the invitation to Connor and Connor will throw it in his face, or stomp on it, or punch him or something— and Evan starts to cry just a little bit, just one tear, so it doesn’t count. </p><p> </p><p>He shoves the sealed envelopes toward his mother, and then folds his arms across his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t even wanna have a birthday party, anyways. Third-graders are too old to have birthday parties.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” His mother coos, pulling him into her arms. And Evan starts to cry now, because his mom’s hugs always make him cry, somehow. He cries harder when she starts rubbing his back. “You’re <em> never </em> too old for a birthday party. And it’ll be fun! You’ll get lots of presents, and I’ll set up a movie and some popcorn, and I bet after it’s all over you and Connor might even be friends.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure. </p><p> </p><p>When he pulls back, a thought hits him. </p><p> </p><p>It’s risky, but… he could just throw Connor’s invitation away when he gets to school. He could go to the boy’s bathroom right after he gets off the bus, and then hide in a stall until no one’s there and bury it deep in the trash can. Or flush it down the toilet. </p><p> </p><p>“Evan,” his mom says, bringing his attention to hers again. </p><p> </p><p>She just looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>Another tear slips down his cheek. His mother blinks at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I trust you to get all of these delivered to the right people?”</p><p> </p><p>She hands him the envelopes. </p><p> </p><p>And he bursts into tears. Again. </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>He’s been staring at Connor Murphy for at least an hour. Maybe two hours. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting in this chair, trying to work on multiplication tables, but getting distracted when Connor lets out a loud sigh and scribbles hard at his paper. And it’s happened at least a hundred times, Evans sure of it. </p><p> </p><p>He’s supposed to wait until the end of class to give out his invitations, but it’s making his tummy hurt since he’s been waiting so long, and the more he thinks about giving the invitation to Connor the worse it feels. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Connor’s dark eyes are boring into Evan’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop <em> staring </em> at me.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan feels that stinging at his eyes again. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Connor </em>,” Miss Berkhaur calls softly, scolding. “This is work time. Work time means quiet.” And Connor gives him a vicious glare before pouting and turning back to his paper.</p><p> </p><p>Evan turns away for a second to wipe his eyes, so Connor doesn’t see. </p><p> </p><p>A moment later, Connor’s happily waving his paper in the air. “I’m all done, Miss B.”</p><p> </p><p>Everyone in their homeroom turns to stare at him, some gasping, because they just got their papers. Evan hasn’t even gotten through ten of them yet. </p><p> </p><p>“I <em> said </em> it’s quiet time, Mr. Murphy,” Miss Berkhaur says again, sterner this time. She’s walking toward him now, bending down and looking him in the eyes. She speaks softer, but since Connor sits diagonal from him, Evan can hear just fine. She takes the paper swiftly out of his hands. “Since you’ve decided to interrupt the class for a second time after I gave you a warning, you will start this over at recess. You can go out after it’s done.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s eyebrows pull together and he crosses his arms. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine. It won’t even take that long anyways,” He mutters.</p><p> </p><p>Miss B raises her eyebrows like she does when she’s real mad, and Evan glues his eyes to his paper in case she somehow gets mad at <em>him</em> for staring. A glance over at Marisol and her open mouth tells him that she’s really, really mad already. </p><p> </p><p>“Then you’ll stay in the whole time,” She says, and Evan looks up when he hears her folding Connor’s paper into a little tiny square. “See me after class, Mr. Murphy.” Connor looks up at her and the paper she’s folding, and then pouts angrily and turns away when she starts walking back to her desk. He hides his head in his arms, and everyone’s staring at him. </p><p> </p><p>In the background, Evan sees Miss B toss Connor’s times table into the trash. </p><p> </p><p>He wonders if Connor got them all right. </p><p> </p><p>Marisol turns to Evan then, snickering quietly. “You think he’s gonna throw a printer at her like he threw one at Mrs. G?”</p><p> </p><p>At the end of math, Evan’s one of the last people to turn his paper in. And he takes Connor’s envelope with him after handing them out to the rest of the boys, because throughout all of the class Connor hadn’t lifted his head once and Evan’s decided that he can’t possibly give Connor the invitation and come out of it without being hurt in some capacity. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss B?” Evan asks her softly. When she doesn’t look up, he speaks a little louder. “Um— Miss B?”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles tightly when she sees him. “Hi, Evan. What can I help you with?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um… I was wondering, um… if… if you could—“</p><p> </p><p>“Cmon, Evan. We gotta get moving. Spit it out.”</p><p> </p><p>That just makes Evan blush. He thrusts the envelope toward her, shutting his eyes tight as the air rushes out of him. “Can you— can you give this to—?”</p><p> </p><p>And then, all of a sudden, Connor’s right next to him. He’s got his arms crossed, and his head is down. Evan notices that his hair is growing out a little bit. It hangs in little ringlets over his forehead, curling around his ears. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he’s right here, Evan. Connor, would you stop pouting and look at your friend Evan for a second?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan frowns at the word friend. </p><p> </p><p>Connor slowly rolls his head around, looking at Evan through narrowed eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Go on, Evan.”</p><p> </p><p>The look in Connor’s eyes says that If Connor ever gets to come out for recess, he’s probably gonna hunt Evan down and get the fifth graders to kick his butt behind the rock wall like Jillian said he did to Juwan last year. </p><p> </p><p>His mom <em> can’t </em> be right about Jillian. She’s got a crush on Brayden, anyways. Plus, if she really had a crush on Connor, why would she go around telling everyone how bad he is?</p><p> </p><p>Evan looks down at the invitation. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t even look at Connor. Connor probably has superhero powers already. Maybe that’s how he broke Juwan’s leg. He could probably turn Evan to stone with just a glance. </p><p> </p><p>“Um… Connor…” Evan says softly, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. </p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of Evan’s eye, Connor’s tapping his foot. </p><p> </p><p>“One second, boys. Stay here.” Miss Berkhaur says, giving Connor a stern glance, and she lightly brushes Evan’s head with her hand as she walks toward the door, principal Green standing in the doorway. </p><p> </p><p>And she leaves Evan with Connor. Alone. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s that?” Connor asks immediately. When Evan looks up, his eyes are still narrowed. </p><p> </p><p>Evan has to shut his eyes shut real tight to be able to say anything. </p><p> </p><p>“Um… it’s… <em> it’sforyou </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor just blinks at him. After that, his eyes are wide, almost with confusion. “It’s for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Evan presses on, glancing at Miss B in the doorway. He holds out his hand, offering Connor the invitation. He snatches it out of Evan’s grasp, and Evan’s biting on his nails before he can even think about it. “It’s for… for my birthday party,” He says around the finger in his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Connor looks at the envelope with those same wide eyes, turning it over in his hands. </p><p> </p><p>He looks up. </p><p> </p><p>“This is really for me?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning either. </p><p> </p><p>Evan glances at the teacher again. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan watches as Connor traces over the big bold letters in his name that his mother wrote in sharpie on the back of the envelope. </p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” Connor breathes, making eye contact with Evan again. “Thanks, Devon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um… it’s— my name’s—“</p><p> </p><p>“If you’ve given him the invitation, Evan, you should go back to your seat. You know better. We’re lining up for lunch soon.” Miss B rounds her desk and shoos him off, but he doesn’t leave without one last glance at Connor. </p><p> </p><p>He’s looking down at the invitation again. </p><p> </p><p>Evan wonders if that’s because his mom spelled his name wrong or something. </p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>Evan saw the look his mom gave him when the group decided on the movie. He saw it. He pretended like he didn’t, but he saw it, and he also pretended that he actually wanted to watch the scary Goosebumps episodes that the other boys wanted to watch, because it’ll make them like him more. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s sitting on the floor with the rest of the boys, but not really, because his back is against the couch and the rest of them are crowded around the TV. Evan’s not sure how he got here, really, but he guesses he’s been scooting back every time he got scared. </p><p> </p><p>Which happened often. </p><p> </p><p>So much, actually, that he’s begging his superpowers to kick in so he can hold in his tears, threatening to spill because of a stupid camera that makes people die after someone takes their picture. And Evan knows it’s just a story probably, duh, and he knows it’s just one camera that does that if it’s true, but he also knows that he’s never gonna look at a camera the same way again because it could easily be that camera and kill him. </p><p> </p><p>So he glances around the dim room, searching for some way to distract himself, and his eyes eventually fall upon Connor, who he hasn’t spoken to at all since inviting him to the party on Friday during class. And he didn’t even say a word when his mom dropped him off, pushing him through the door and kissing him on the head. He had immediately wiped it off. </p><p> </p><p>Connor doesn’t seem like he wants to talk to Evan or any of the other boys in their class. But the other boys don’t seem like they want to talk to Connor, either. </p><p> </p><p>All he’s been doing since Evan blew out his birthday candles is sit on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked underneath him, reading a book he pulled out of his bag. Connor must be pretty smart if he’d rather read a book with no pictures than watch Goosebumps with the rest of them. </p><p> </p><p>Or maybe he’s just as scared as Evan is. </p><p> </p><p>Connor glances up at him. </p><p> </p><p>Evan quickly looks away, face burning. </p><p> </p><p>And his gaze then lands on the TV again, just in time for the entire room to burst into laughter, a sure sign that something gross or scary is happening. The thing is, Evan doesn’t even get to so much as glance at what’s happening on the screen before the tears reach the surface, and Evan’s squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his hands over his ears because it’s just too much, the sound, and he’s closing his eyes and covering his ears but it’s in his brain, he can taste it, and the only things he’s absolutely sure of is that he doesn’t want these boys to see him cry and that he is definitely about to cry. </p><p> </p><p>So he takes off, unsure if anyone’s following him or calling for him, racing up the stairs as fast as he can carry himself and slamming the door to the bathroom closed. He curls up in the corner of the room, right next to the heater, and once he’s sure that the noises can’t reach him anymore, he nestles one hand in his hair and brings the other one up to start chewing away at his nails. </p><p> </p><p>He needs his mom.</p><p> </p><p>But she’s in the other room, and if Evan sees his mom he’s just going to cry more, and he needs to start solving problems on his own anyways because he’s gonna be a fourth grader soon and fourth graders don’t run to their mommies every time something scares them. </p><p> </p><p>Evan looks up with wide eyes when there’s a knock at the door.</p><p> </p><p>“I gotta go pee,” Comes a voice from behind the door, and Evan almost climbs out the window at the thought of someone from his class coming in here right now and seeing Evan’s tear-streaked face, his snotty nose, his blotchy cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>Evan doesn’t say anything. He does not magically transport out of the room, either, dang it. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s Connor. Open the door.”</p><p> </p><p>And so Evan waits a second. And then after he’s done wiping his face off, he does open the door.</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s staring down his hallway when Evan does. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey. I’m coming in,” Connor tells him, so Evan steps to the side and Connor closes the door behind him. </p><p> </p><p>“I— I thought you had to pee—?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor shrugs, crossing the small space and sliding down against the wall right where Evan was just sitting. He still has his book. </p><p> </p><p>“I lied.”</p><p> </p><p>And so Evan just stands there in front of the door, shifting back and forth and waiting for Connor to keep talking. </p><p> </p><p>But then even the silence is loud, like a windstorm in Evan’s ears. </p><p> </p><p>“Um— so then why did you come in here?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor looks up at him and tilts his head to the side. “You were crying,” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing. </p><p> </p><p>Evan blinks at him. “No, I was— I wasn’t crying.” He crosses his arms, cheeks warming at the lie. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Connor says back with a shrug, twirling a piece of yarn from their shaggy rug around his finger.</p><p> </p><p>Evan sighs, frustrated. “Did you come up here to— to m-make fun of me then?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor looks at him again. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>And so then Evan sinks down onto the floor, back against the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you get scared?” Connor asks him after a second, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. </p><p> </p><p>Evan bites his lip. He mirrors Connor, making himself as small as humanly possible. “No,” Evan lies, and then a tear slips down his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Connor looks at him. For a moment, Evan thinks Connor might come over and punch him for being such a baby. But he doesn’t, he just looks at him, and then suddenly he’s scooching closer, pulling himself forward and sitting cross-legged in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay if you were.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sniffles, hiding his face in his hands. “No, it’s not. Only— only babies cry about scary stuff. I’m almost a fourth-grader.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes my mom cries for no reason at all. I can hear her through the wall when I’m supposed to be sleeping but I’m playing Mario on my DS instead.” When Evan glances up again Connor’s wearing a timid smile. “She cries sometimes, and she’s even a grown-up.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan rests his chin on his knee, wiping at his nose. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Connor tells him, nodding. “I couldn’t believe it either. Maybe adults just don’t cry around us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Evan reasons, but his mom is the strongest lady in the world, so he’s pretty sure she doesn’t cry, even when he’s not there. </p><p> </p><p>Evan hears faint laughter coming from downstairs when he and Connor both stop talking. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Connor says suddenly, reaching behind him for the book he’d previously abandoned on the floor. He scooches even closer to Evan, shoving the book in his face. </p><p> </p><p>When he drops it, his eyes are sparkling and the smile on his face is unlike any Evan’s ever seen on him. </p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever heard of Harry Potter?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. fifth grade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Well… um. I, I like you, Connor.”</p><p>Evan’s cheeks go red. </p><p>“Like, as a— as a friend.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO FRIENDS!!! i really love this chapter ahhhh i'm so excited to post this!!!<br/>WARNING U NOW they use Dumb Children Language within the first paragraph (r*tard, f*ggot) bc that's what kids do.<br/>i do not condone the usage of this language!!!!!<br/>aside from that, I don't think there are any TWs! enjoy &amp; thanks for reading!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My mom called it a <em> play date </em>. Like, that’s so…” Connor briefly glances around the halls. “That’s so friggin’ retarded.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Retarded </em> . That’s what people have been calling Evan for years. Mostly behind his back, to be honest, but it’s not like Evan doesn’t hear it. And he knows he’s different, he knows he’s not like the rest of the kids at his school, but… he doesn’t <em> feel </em> different on the inside.</p><p> </p><p>The most memorable moment is when that word came out of his dad’s mouth before he left. </p><p> </p><p>Evan shouldn’t have even been on the steps. He shouldn’t have been spying on his parents, but he couldn’t help himself; they were being so <em> loud </em> and he just wanted to read in peace. So he crept up to the steps, staying partially hidden behind the wall, and that’s when he heard it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Your retard of a son can’t even handle a single fucking conversation! How am I supposed to be patient when he just doesn’t…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Evan realizes too late that he’s quickly dissolving into tears. </p><p> </p><p>At the lockers. In front of everybody in the hallway. </p><p> </p><p>“Evan? Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan wipes at his eyes. “Nothing! N-nothing, I’m— it’s fine,” He says, soft. </p><p> </p><p>Connor tilts his head to the side. “You were crying just now.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s got better control of his crying now. He’s able to make the tears stop just for a bit, but he’s really gotta focus. </p><p> </p><p>“I was— I got something in my— my eye,” He lies. </p><p> </p><p>He’s also gotten better at lying. </p><p> </p><p>Or at least he thought he did. </p><p> </p><p>Connor blinks at him. Blatantly ignores his lie. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sighs, turning to his locker. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have anyone else to tell, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>That makes Evan smile just a little. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re gonna— you’ll hate me.”</p><p> </p><p>He glances at Connor, who promptly rolls his eyes. “No I won’t. You’re my best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan looks down. </p><p> </p><p>“C<em> ’mon </em>. We only have, like, a minute before the bell rings.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sighs again, shaking out his hands to expel some of that nervous energy. “Okay. Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, cool.” Connor crosses his arms. He goes to push his hair back, but then he feels his new buzz cut and the hint of a smile that he wore before is gone like it was never even there. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t… I just…”</p><p> </p><p>Connor raises his eyebrows. </p><p> </p><p>Evan closes his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“People… call me that a lot. <em> R-retard </em>. And. And it makes me feel really— really bad.”</p><p> </p><p>His face is on fire. Tears are threatening to fall, but he screws up his face and they don’t. When he opens his eyes, Connor’s wearing the same expression as when he closed them. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” He says, and Evan thinks he can see a tinge of red on his cheeks as well. “Well. If anyone ever calls you that I’ll beat them up, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan laughs a watery laugh. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor slings an arm around his shoulder, shutting Evan’s locker when he finally manages to gather his books. </p><p> </p><p>“Connor?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, man?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m… I’m really glad you’re my f-friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor smiles over at him, full teeth and everything. He doesn’t do that much since he’s gotten braces. It’s nice when he does. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s dentist said he needed braces. He hasn’t been back since. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you’re my friend, too.”</p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>To prove Evan’s point from earlier in the morning, as soon as he and Connor are settled in the lunch line, something happens. </p><p> </p><p>Something always happens in the lunch line. The lunch ladies can’t see them when the line wraps around the wall, and it’s too far for the teachers on lunch duty to see either. </p><p> </p><p>Evan tries to take a shuffling step forward as the line moves, slower than slow, but when he does, he falls right against Connor’s back because someone has just stepped on the back of Evan’s shoe. </p><p> </p><p>“What the frick—“ Connor stumbles a bit, but manages to steady himself before he runs into the girl in front of him. Evan, however, falls to the ground. Connor shoots them a look and offers Evan a hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no! Sorry, <em> retard </em>,” The kid sneers, his friends laughing behind him, and when Evan looks up he notices that this is the same kid who tripped him at recess last week. He’s a couple of grades above Evan and Connor.</p><p> </p><p>Evan feels his heart start to pound against his rib cage. He blinks, but his vision is swimming. He has to get out of here. </p><p> </p><p>Connor pushes past him, going nearly chest to chest with the bully in question. Connor’s almost as tall as him. “Don’t freaking call him that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, look! Awww! The <em> fags </em> are standing up for each other.” The kid’s in Connor’s face now, and when Evan glances around he’s realized they’ve drawn a small crowd. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Aaron.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor knows him. Evan didn’t know that. </p><p> </p><p>How does Connor know him?</p><p> </p><p>At the utterance of the f word, the crowd’s whispers grow louder. And to be honest, Evan’s kind of shocked too. </p><p> </p><p>Again, Evan tries to find the best route of escape. He’s in the middle of a circle of his peers, whispering back and forth and staring at him. </p><p> </p><p>There’s no good way out. </p><p> </p><p>Evan feels his throat go dry. He can’t breathe. </p><p> </p><p>“Ew, get away from me! I don’t wanna catch the <em> gay </em>,” Aaron says obnoxiously, pushing Connor back by the chest. And then he laughs. </p><p> </p><p>And people laugh with him. </p><p> </p><p>Connor balls his hands into fists. His face is beet red. </p><p> </p><p>“I swear to god, I’m gonna—“</p><p> </p><p>“What, Murphy? You gonna kiss me or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan shoves his fingers in his ears and scrunches his eyes closed, cowering somewhere behind Connor. He knows where this is going. </p><p> </p><p>“I said, <em> shut the fuck up </em>,” Connor raises his voice, and a hush falls over the crowd. One by one, they start looking to Evan’s left. </p><p> </p><p>Miss Berkhaur. Evan and Connor’s third grade teacher. </p><p> </p><p>“Connor Murphy,” She yells, and Connor’s head snaps in her direction. He looks scared for only a second. </p><p> </p><p>“He pushed me!” Connor insists, gesturing to a now doe-eyed Aaron, and Evan wishes that he wasn’t too shy to say something. To say that Connor’s telling the truth, because no one ever believes him anymore. To stick up for him like Connor did for him. </p><p> </p><p>The crowd around them starts to disappear as Miss B starts waving everyone off. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss B, he just started yelling at me out of nowhere. He’s <em> crazy </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Aaron shoots Connor a smug look and there’s fire behind his eyes when he looks back. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna <em> kill you— </em>“</p><p> </p><p>“That’s <em> enough </em>! Come with me, Mr. Murphy. We’re going to have a long talk with your parents.” Miss B puts an aggressive hand on the back of Connor’s neck, tugging him away from the situation by pulling at the collar of his shirt, and Connor glances back at Evan once before marching along with her. </p><p> </p><p>He looks scared again. Just for a second. </p><p> </p><p>From behind him, Aaron chuckles. </p><p> </p><p>“Hope that faggot gets suspended for good,” He says under his breath to one of his friends, and Evan whirls around to face him. </p><p> </p><p>He needs to say something. </p><p> </p><p>But it only takes a quirk of Aaron’s eyebrow and steady eye contact to make Evan deflate, curling into himself and trying to make himself small. </p><p> </p><p>“Move it, retard,” He says as he pushes past Evan, and he trips over his feet yet again. </p><p> </p><p>But this time, Connor’s not here to help him up. </p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>Connor’s ungrounded by the time Saturday rolls around, and Evan’s mom invites him over for a sleepover. </p><p> </p><p>It’s almost as bad as <em> play date </em>, but not quite. </p><p> </p><p>Connor hasn’t been talking much since he got in trouble with the principal. Mostly he’s just been staring at the floor, or his desk, or the papers on his desk that he barely touches at all throughout class. And now, sitting on the end of Evan’s bed in his pajamas, he’s the same. Quiet. </p><p> </p><p>Evan isn’t really sure what to do. </p><p> </p><p>Usually when Evan and Connor have sleepovers, Mrs. Murphy has to come upstairs and tell them to quiet down. She always does so with a big smile on her face, looking between the two of them and rolling her eyes before offering them popcorn for their silence. </p><p> </p><p>Connor’s never stayed at Evan’s house before. Evan doesn’t really like his house, but his mom insisted on having him over this time. She said the Murphy’s are gonna start to think they’re homeless or something.  And even though she was the one that wanted Connor to come here, she practically yelled at Evan as she was running around cleaning the house before the Murphy’s showed up. </p><p> </p><p>Evan honestly didn’t know where the mess even was. </p><p> </p><p>“Um… Connor?” Evan starts, picking at his fingernails. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Connor asks, a bit harsh. </p><p> </p><p>Evan pushes on. “Do you… do you wanna play the— the new Super Smash Bros? Jared let me, um— he let me borrow it, so. So we could play it, if, if you want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor breathes out through his nose. “I dunno.”</p><p> </p><p>He crosses his arms and turns away from Evan just a little bit. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Evan says helplessly. </p><p> </p><p>His house creaks. He can just barely hear the sound of the TV downstairs. </p><p> </p><p>And then Connor groans, throwing himself back against Evan’s bed. He grabs the pillow he brought with him and holds it to his face. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s— what’s wrong?” Evan asks him, inching closer. </p><p> </p><p>Connor groans again. “My family <em> sucks </em>,” He says, muffled. </p><p> </p><p>Connor starts absentmindedly kicking his legs where they hang off the edge of the bed. </p><p> </p><p>“What’d they do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, they just—“ Connor digs his fingers into his pillow. “They don’t <em> like </em> me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your mom likes you,” Evan points out. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah, but she <em> has </em> to. Dad only likes Zoe because she’s never been to the principal’s office and all the teachers like her.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s little sister, Zoe. She’s in fourth grade. Evan doesn’t understand why the teachers like her, because whenever Evan’s at Connor’s house, all she does is annoy them. </p><p> </p><p>“And— and he made me—“</p><p> </p><p>Connor cuts himself off. Evan sees him take a deep breath in. </p><p> </p><p>“He made me cut my frickin’ hair off. Just because… <em> ugh </em> , I <em> hate </em> him,” Connor says on a sob, curling in on himself. </p><p> </p><p>Evan just sits there for a second. </p><p> </p><p>“Well… um. I, I like you, Connor.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s cheeks go red. </p><p> </p><p>“Like, as a— as a friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor takes a shaky breath. “You <em> have </em> to say that. You’re my best friend. It doesn’t count.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sighs. “Yeah, but— like, last week, with Aaron.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor tenses up. </p><p> </p><p>“You— you got in trouble just ‘cause— because he was being mean to me. You’re… a good friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s grip relaxes just a little. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Psh </em> , of <em> course </em> not,” Evan says, nudging Connor’s arm. It makes him giggle just a little. “You’re the best friend I’ve— I’ve ever had.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ugh </em>, fine,” Connor says, and Evan can hear him smiling. It’s contagious. He throws his pillow to the side, and his cheeks are wet. “But you’re gay.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan laughs. “No, you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you are.”</p><p> </p><p>And then Evan’s bedroom door creaks open just a little bit, and his mom pops her head in. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, boys. I think it’s time for bed, okay? It’s getting pretty late.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>When they’re all settled for bed, Connor and Evan laying as far away from each other on Evan’s tiny couch as they can be since Evan doesn’t have an air mattress like Connor does, they whisper back and forth and giggle for hours, just like they always do. </p><p> </p><p>They settle down eventually, and the flickering light of the TV is keeping Evan awake. He’s not used to that in his own room. He guesses Connor’s asleep, since he hasn’t moved in a while. </p><p> </p><p>But then Evan jumps a foot in the air when he does. </p><p> </p><p>“Evan?”</p><p> </p><p>His heart is pounding, but he tries to steady his voice. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask you something?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan answers immediately. “I mean— duh.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor doesn’t laugh like Evan thought he would. “Okay. Um. So… so I have this friend at another school, and… and he told me something kinda gross that he did.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was it?” Evan asks, making sure his voice is down enough that his mom can’t hear them talking. </p><p> </p><p>“He told me that, like… a boy kissed him. Isn’t that gross?” Connor gives a short laugh. “And— and then he told me that he… that he kissed him again right after.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan laughs because he feels like that’s what he should do. “That’s— that’s really weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Connor agrees, and then he pauses. “I told him I’d still be his friend, though. Like, even if he’s weird.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan considers this for a second. “See? Told you you’re a good— a good friend, Connor.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor laughs through his nose. “If— I mean, I don’t think you’ll ever meet him since he goes to another school, but— would you… be nice to him if you guys met? Even though he’s, like, really weird?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s kinda weird, Evan thinks, but if Connor’s okay with it then so is Evan. Any friend of Connor’s is a friend of Evan’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’d be n-nice to him.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor takes a breath. “Okay, good.” A beat. “Would you be his friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Evan answers immediately. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, cool.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan settles into the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, where’d you meet him anyway?” Evan asks him. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh— my family goes on vacation in the summer and I met him at, uh. At the… the ski lodge. Where people— where we go to ski, y’know, when we— when we go on trips. Summer ones.”</p><p> </p><p>“Awesome,” Evan responds. </p><p> </p><p>Connor gives another little laugh. He breathes out. “Yeah,” He answers. “‘Night, Evan.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan smiles, letting his eyes slip shut. “‘Night, Connor.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>pls let me know what u think &amp; if you want another chapter! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. seventh grade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Nothing. Just… forget I said anything.”</p><p>He rolls back toward the wall. </p><p>“Connor, you…” Evan’s voice cracks a little. He clears his throat. “You can… you can trust me, like… you’re my best friend.”</p><p>“You’ll hate me,” Connor says, and it’s the smallest that he’s ever sounded</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I HAVE CAUGHT THE WRITING BUG.<br/>I’m sry lol<br/>warnings for implied sending of nudes and implied masturbation!! nothing described, only implied!<br/>thanks for reading!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh my god. Dude, you won’t fuckin’ believe this.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan perks up, glancing over at Connor from across the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Connor says, motioning for Evan to come over there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he manages to heave himself off the bed and leans over Connor’s desk chair, he almost chokes when he sees what Connor’s got on his phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a text message from Jillian. It’s blurry and pixelated, but Evan can definitely make out the most defining features of the photo attached: it’s Jillian, holding up her shirt. Evan’s face goes all warm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He forces himself to think about his grandma. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Evan laughs, covering his mouth. He watches Connor to see what he does, and whether he should laugh or be disgusted or whatever he’s supposed to be doing. Whatever normal people do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Connor says, locking his phone. “I can’t believe she actually did it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you, like— did you save it?” Evan asks, because he can’t help himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m gonna delete it,” Connor says with nonchalance, shrugging and turning back to his English homework. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um. Really? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though Evan can barely see Connor’s face now, he doesn’t miss the slight redness of his ears. “I’m not a creep, man. And also, like— I get to see the real thing all the time, so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan puts his palms on his cheeks in hopes of cooling them down. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Plus, I could get in huge fuckin’ trouble for that. Like, with the FBI and shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Evan asks, and Connor turns back to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, dude. We’re not 18. It’s, like, illegal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor scribbles something down. “She’s an idiot for even sending it. It was only a joke, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan scrunches up his face. Something doesn’t feel right about Connor and Jillian. It never has, not since they started dating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t— you can’t call your girlfriend stupid, Connor,” Evan reminds him, playing it off as a joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor laughs, sharp. “Yes the fuck I can. If the shoe fits…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan sits back on the bed, contemplating. “I mean… if you don’t like her, then why are you guys even dating?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor pauses, and then scoffs. He turns to Evan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said I didn’t like her.” Connor’s not joking anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s eyebrows come together. “You just… you don’t really seem like you’re that into her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s ears are fully red now. “Just because she’s an idiot doesn’t mean she’s not hot, Evan,” Connor says, like Evan’s the idiot. “Like, did you see that picture? Plus, I can't break up with her anyway. Larry insisted on meeting her, so she’s coming over on Friday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That makes sense,” Evan says, even though it doesn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Connor sighs, swiveling around in his desk chair. “I don’t wanna talk about Jillian anymore. Let’s play something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets up and out of his chair, plopping down right next to Evan on the bed. Evan can feel his body heat. “But— you haven’t finished your English, like— I can wait until you’re—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor says, lightly punching his shoulder. “I’m gonna get a shitty grade anyway, so who cares?” He drops down onto the ground, crawling over to his Xbox. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re, like, the smartest kid in your class, Connor,” Evan says, immediately averting his eyes when they land on the back pockets of Connor’s jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not what’s under them, though. Nope. He’s not even focusing on that, actually. That would be weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try telling Larry that,” Connor laughs, bitter. “What game?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And even though Evan doesn’t want anything to do with playing video games right now, he doesn’t push it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the third night in a row that Evan’s thoughts have drifted in the direction of Connor Murphy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, like. It’s weird. It’s getting weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Evan was beyond excited when he found out that they have gym class together, but. Besides when they were really little, Evan’s never, like… been around when Connor changes clothes. But now, it’s like… all he wants to do is watch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s a creep. He’s a huge fucking creep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe Evan’s just jealous of Connor and the way he looks, and that’s why Evan’s so fixated on him. Because Evan was one of the first kids in his class to get acne, and along with that he has stupid freckles over his entire body, and he has this stupid pouch of fat over his tummy and he has a muffin top and Connor’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor only ever has one pimple. Maybe two. But they’re always light, not bright red and angry like Evan’s. And he’s got a nice jaw, it’s all square and sharp and manly. Evan’s is soft and round like a girl’s. And Connor has nice shiny hair and the perfect face with these really pretty soft grey eyes that hold just a hint of brown. Connor calls it a defect, but… Evan thinks it’s beautiful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And. Shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Evan’s officially the creepiest human on this planet. He’s sitting here, under the covers, thinking about how his male best friend has beautiful eyes. His male best friend that has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So not only is he a creep, but he’s a homewrecker too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks that’s the right term. His mom uses it a lot when she talks about his dad’s new wife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that Evan wants to be, like, Connor’s wife. He’s glad that Connor has someone like Jillian. He’s happy for them. He just… wishes it was anyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a voice says in the way back of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s heart starts to pound. It’s not like that. He doesn’t like Connor like that. He’s just… he’s jealous of him. Because Connor has a moderately hot girlfriend who sends him pictures of her boobs and he’s super smart and he can draw and he has a family that’s not broken like his and Connor’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> and…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s… hot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alright. The thought is now at the forefront of his mind, which means he has to deal with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor is… he’s nice, and he’s protective, and he’s funny, and he cares, and… he’s not so bad looking. Evan can admit that without being, like, full gay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan can’t be gay, anyway. He can’t. He’s had crushes on girls before. And he can’t even deny that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> the picture Connor showed him, even if it does make him a creep. What if he’s just making it up, though? What if he just convinced himself that he liked it because that’s always what he thought he was supposed to do? And what if he’s so close to Connor as a friend that he’s confused about him too?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to do. Or think. Or anything, really. This stupid secret he’s been trying to hide and unravel is sitting like a boulder on his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then he remembers something Jared said earlier this week. Something about “research”. How his moms grounded him and took away computer privileges all because he was doing some </span>
  <em>
    <span>research</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the family computer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which. He couldn’t have meant…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s stomach drops. His mom’s been asleep for hours. The computer’s just downstairs, and Evan knows the password, and Jared already told him about the incognito browser. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe… maybe this would all be a little easier if he did some research of his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Evan’s thought about it once, now that he’s allowed himself to think about it, it’s all he can think about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except now, his thoughts have gotten worse. Like that time in the library when Connor was reading and all Evan could even see was the v of Connor’s Cupid’s bow. How pink his lips are. How much Evan wouldn’t mind kissing him, maybe, just to see. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If his research has done anything, it’s just made Evan even more confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s air mattress has a hole in it. Which adds a whole ‘nother level of confusion on top of the trillions of layers that Evan’s already got on his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan could sleep on the floor tonight. He could take the couch. But since they just recently had to give away their dog and Evan would be sniffling and getting dog hair caught in his nose and his throat all night if he slept on the couch, and since the floor isn’t even carpeted, Connor has so graciously insisted that he and Evan sleep in the same bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed. Together. Like, centimeters apart. Almost touching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t think he can handle it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not gonna make it through this night. He’s sure of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, um… how was dinner last night? With… with Jillian?” Evan asks, settling into Connor’s bed. He prefers the inside when he sleeps in his own bed, but he gets up a lot to pee and doesn’t want to have to step over Connor every time he needs to get up, so he’ll risk feeling anxious and exposed just to avoid the slight awkwardness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor rolls onto his back so Evan can see the side of his face. His hair’s all messy and curly and a little greasy, laying around him like a tiny halo. “It was… I dunno. It was fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan props himself up on his elbow. “Just… just fine?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I dunno, Evan. I just… I don’t even know anymore. I’m so tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan knows he’s not talking about sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tired of... of what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drops his hands, staring up at the ceiling. “Nothing. Just… forget I said anything.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls back toward the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor, you…” Evan’s voice cracks a little. He clears his throat. “You can… you can trust me, like… you’re my best friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll hate me,” Connor says, and it’s the smallest that he’s ever sounded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes Evan by surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I— I could never. I wouldn’t. Not ever, Connor. You know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jillian, okay? She’s… she’s fine. She’s just… she’s not…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Connor turns over, facing Evan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After dinner Larry told me he was proud of me.” Tears gather in Connor’s eyes and he quickly wipes them away. “He told me that… that I was becoming </span>
  <em>
    <span>the man he always knew I could be</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Connor laughs bitterly, avoiding Evan’s eyes. “I lied to him. Just to… to make him happy, I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor takes in a sharp breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m such a fucking shitty person, Evan,” He says on the exhale, and his laughter sounds a whole lot like crying. “I’m not even dating her for… for her. I’m dating her so my dad will get off my back. Because I knew she would say yes if I asked her. I don’t… </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. I don’t… I don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>like…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor sits up in bed. He grips at the roots of his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am such a fucking screw-up. I can’t even date people right. I fuck up </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And now I have to break up with her because you were right, I’m not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>into</span>
  </em>
  <span> her like that, and I’m not even into her at all because I’m—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor stops. He’s breathing hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s courage is dwindling. The words are getting stuck in the back of his throat, they’re coming out stunted and quiet. “You’re… what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a breath, shakes the hair out of his face like he’s just realized what he’s trying to say. “It’s… it’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor,” Evan pleads. If Connor’s saying what Evan thinks he is… then…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then… maybe Evan’s not so alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please just fucking drop it,” Connor snaps, and Evan jumps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He clamps his teeth together so hard that he feels like he might break them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor lays back down, taking a measured breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan lays back down too, his back to Connor. His heart feels like it’s gonna explode. Connor’s never… directed anything like that at him before. It’s always been for him, or around him. Never at him. But he will not cry. He won’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan could say it. He could tell Connor everything he’s feeling, minus the kinda sorta weird feelings he sometimes has about him. How sometimes he wishes he could try to kiss a boy. Just once. Just enough to see if he’d feel something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The main concern with that one is that Evan’s not really sure if he’d want to stop after one. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Connor breathes, and Evan feels tears prick at his eyes. Dammit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan wipes his eyes, enough to get the job done without alerting Connor that anything’s wrong. “It’s okay,” He says with his most even voice, even though he’s hurting, but Connor about interrupts him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not, I’m.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s voice drops off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, when the room goes silent for a long while, Evan drops off too. </span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ninth grade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Aren’t you, like… sweaty?” Evan asks, trying not to show that he’s struggling to keep up with Connor’s long-legged stride. </p><p>He’s already got sweat dripping down his temples, but Connor doesn’t seem bothered at all. He's holding his sleeves as he walks, hands balled into fists to keep them in place.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>pls forgive me<br/>(warnings for mentions of self harm &amp; more internalized homophobia)<br/>(*edit:<br/>they are freshmen in high school. Connor is fifteen and Evan is fourteen. they are dumb, and they don’t think things through. they’re unable to think before they speak, bc their brains aren’t fully developed yet. we were all kids once, and we did some dumb shit we regret. pls don’t be too hard on these children. thank u.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Alright, I’ll bite. Truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles, picking at his fingers and looking down at his lap. “Okay, um… truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor rolls his eyes. “Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fucking lame.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t smile, because he doesn’t really do that anymore, but his dimple pops out. It makes Evan smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so…. hmm.” Connor glances around the bustling cafeteria, their mostly empty lunch table. “I dare you to… to stop picking at your fingers so damn much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan goes red, immediately planting his palms flat on the tabletop. “That’s… that doesn’t count.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean it doesn’t count?” Connor asks, throwing his arms up. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan ignores him, covering up his bandaged index finger with his other hand. “It’s… you're supposed to, like… dare me to prank call someone, or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor purses his lips. “You wanna prank call someone in the middle of school? I can make that happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I just— it’s the principle of the thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The principle of the thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor mocks him, “Whatever. Ask me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan immediately goes to pick at his fingernails, but settles for winding his hands into the hem of his shirt instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so— truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor pretends to think about it, but Evan knows what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth. “Dare me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, um…” Evan looks around, and the first thing his eyes land on is Connor’s messy bookbag, filled to the top with crinkled papers and dog-eared textbooks. “I dare you to— to finish your math homework.” And he gives Connor a cheeky grin afterward, watching as Connor’s eyes brighten for just a moment as he studies Evan’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then it falls, and he’s back to normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor rolls his eyes again. He props his head up on his hand. “Evan. It’s not gonna happen. I’m just gonna drop out anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Evan protests. “You— you can do it. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can tell Connor’s biting on the inside of his cheek, pressing his lips together, but Evan’s not sure why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> drop out right now. ‘S not like I’m making it to graduation anyway. Thanks, Evan. I think I will.” It’s dripping with sarcasm, but it’s not biting or harsh. Evan considers it a win. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s not what I—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truth or dare,” Connor interrupts sharply, all the humor gone from his voice, looking down and rubbing at his wrist through his sweatshirt sleeve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan knows better than to keep pushing, but… Connor’s been different. He’s been different for a while. Skinny and gloomy and angry, hopeless, and Evan wants so badly to ask him if he’s okay. He used to think Connor would tell him anything, but now Connor barely tells him anything at all. Barely makes direct eye contact. Barely comes over anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan just… wants him to be okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truth,” He says, and Connor shoots him a look. “What? I said dare last time, I’m— I’m allowed to say truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Connor responds, and then his eyes glaze over a little bit. He licks his lips, biting down on the bottom one just a little, and then his eyes meet Evan’s. He takes a breath. “Okay, so...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just with two words, the energy between them has shifted to something serious. Evan’s not sure what Connor’s searching for in his eyes, but he’s not able to look away. Connor leans in close, arms folded and sliding closer to Evan across the table. It makes Evan’s heart beat fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever…” Connor’s careful, he says each word slow, like he’s testing the waters. “...thought about... kissing a guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor tilts his head to the side, studying Evan for his response, and.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s body stops functioning. He’s frozen. Error 404: Evan not found. His mind is racing, taking him back to middle school where he thought about it so much that it almost became unreal to him, and when he got diagnosed with a panic disorder he blamed it on that part of himself so he just pushed it way the fuck down, buried it under schoolwork and video games and thought about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> but that. He pushed it from his mind whenever it popped up, distracting himself with literally anything else he could find.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t actively thought about it in years, the fact that there’s a possibility that he likes boys. That he maybe likes boys. That he probably likes boys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That he definitely likes one boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all crashing back; the memories, the heartache, the confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now, now that it’s back at the forefront of his mind, he thinks about how he used to dream about Connor’s lips. And how he used to look forward to gym only because he’d get to see Connor in his underwear for a span of five seconds. How much of a goddamn creep he was for doing that, and how bad it made him feel afterward. How pretty Connor’s eyes are. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How pretty he looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>with his stupid eyes and his stupid face and neck and shoulders and hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels his throat start to close up. He can’t. He can’t think about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m—“ And Evan panics. He panics, and he blurts something out before he can even process it. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Connor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor blinks at him a couple of times and that brightness is gone, wiped away in a matter of milliseconds. He presses his mouth into a hard line. “Right. Because that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He looks away, and Evan can immediately tell that he’s ruined this. He’s lost him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not—</span>
  </em>
  <span> I didn’t mean that. It’s fine that you like both. I just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> just don’t. It doesn’t— it doesn’t matter to me that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor picks up his fork, pushing around his green beans. He hates green beans. For some reason, Evan keeps talking. Why can’t he stop fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> just don’t… I wouldn’t… but I don’t… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> just have— I’ve never...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Connor says, sharp. Evan has a feeling they’ve reached the end of this conversation. “I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s ninety degrees outside; the air is stale and the humidity is almost hanging in the air, but Connor’s wearing a sweatshirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s been wearing it a lot. It’s the one he bought a little over a year ago, and he hasn’t really taken it off much since. And it’s nothing special, just a black zip up hoodie, but he doesn’t leave the house without it, Evan notices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He even </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleeps</span>
  </em>
  <span> with it on, on the rare occasion that Evan convinces Connor to spend the night for once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you, like… sweaty?” Evan asks, trying not to show that he’s struggling to keep up with Connor’s long-legged stride. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s already got sweat dripping down his temples, but Connor doesn’t seem bothered at all. He's holding his sleeves as he walks, hands balled into fists to keep them in place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s that, because Connor doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps walking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Alright,” Evan says carefully. “Are we… are we still on for Saturday? My mom said we could rent a movie and everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s hood is covering most of his face. He doesn’t look at Evan when he speaks. “I’ve… got plans. Some other weekend, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan says, trying and failing to keep the defeated disappointment out of his voice. “Yeah, definitely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s said that the past two weekends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don’t say another word until they finally reach Connor’s house, climbing the rickety back porch stairs and sneaking up to Connor’s room. And then Connor opens the window, like he always does, and he’s got his little baggie in his hoodie pocket and a knee on the window ledge and he glances back at Evan with raised eyebrows, a silent request to follow him out onto the roof. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan usually waves him off, but. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something’s different about the way Connor looks at him now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Evan shrugs, and Connor’s eyebrows raise higher, and Evan almost gets a smile out of him. Almost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t seen one in so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The roof is fucking terrifying, to be honest. It’s on a downward slant, steep as hell, and if Evan were to fall he’d be sure to crack his head on the pavement. That’s the first reason he doesn’t like to come out here with Connor, because it sends his heart racing and then his palms get sweaty and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to hang onto the roof, and then what if he slips, and Connor’s too fucked up to catch him, and then he dies on Connor Murphy’s driveway. And he forces his best friend to watch him do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other reason is that the smell of weed makes Evan sick to his stomach, but he’s never told Connor that. It’s the smell of his dad’s house in Colorado; it’s soaked permanently into the sheets and the pillowcases and the walls, and his step mom’s daughter smells like it too. But she doesn’t even realize it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s actually his half-sister by blood, but that’s a technicality if Evan has anything to say about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries hard to push aside his fear and sit down like a normal person on Connor’s roof, planting his feet and pushing himself up against the siding. Connor slumps forward, lighting up and taking a long drag. His eyes flutter shut and Evan’s entranced by the length of his eyelashes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan needs to stop. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting</span>
  </em>
  <span> for thinking like this about Connor.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s eye catches on a strip of red when Connor shifts and his sleeve falls just a bit. They never used to do that, but Connor’s been losing weight so much in the last couple of months that it hangs off of him like a blanket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And. Connor’s got lines on his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a second, but he turns his head and lifts his eyebrows. His eyes look dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s… what’s on your arm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He immediately pulls his sleeve up. “Please just… don’t.” And then he turns his head, hooking his chin over his arms, bringing his knees to his chest. The holes in his jeans are a lot bigger now since Connor’s been wearing the same pair for months, and there’s the hint of a bruise where his knee sticks out of one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan wonders how else Connor’s been hurting himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, like… Evan can’t let this go. He just can’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Connor, can we— you’ve been a little… just… like… you know you’re my best—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. “I know, I’m your </span>
  <em>
    <span>bestest friend in the whole fucking world, you can tell me anything, Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fuck. I’ve heard it a million fucking times, Evan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan blinks, and then turns away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor laughs bitterly. “I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, alright? I’m fucked up. Stop fucking reminding me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan sighs. His shoulders feel so heavy. “I just… I just—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just, you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Evan? You’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the idea of fixing me just like everyone else in this shitty fucking town? Just like my shitty fucking family? Some </span>
  <em>
    <span>best friend.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Evan’s quiet. He tries to tell himself that Connor’s anger isn’t directed at him, and that he’s been going through a lot, obviously, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels… bad. It feels wrong. Something about this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Evan just… doesn’t know how. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, it’s his fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs, angry and frustrated, and he pulls his hood down to shake his hair free. It curls up around his ears now, which— as Evan looks at him, glances at him out of the corner of his eye— are now pierced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking at?” Connor demands, shooting him a glare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts. With every passing moment, it hurts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just— your ears, I didn’t. I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor turns away. “Yeah. They’re new.” His voice is flat, monotone, but it’s less harsh than every other word he’s said so far. A little softer. Evan can’t help but feel like he’s in trouble for bringing it up, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, um. I like them. They’re nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t happen to mention that he’d like just about any way Connor happened to adorn his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t answer, just huffs another bitter laugh through his nose. Evan’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get him to keep talking. Eventually, he’ll open up like he used to. He’s got to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan misses him. Fuck, he misses him so much, even when Connor’s right there next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did you… when did you get them? I just, um. I had no idea you even—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s because I have friends other than you, Evan,” Connor grits out, like it’s exploding out of him, nails digging into his arms through his sweatshirt sleeves. “I have friends that don’t question me every two seconds about shit that doesn’t matter, and who know how to mind their own fucking business, and who aren’t constantly annoying because they have no other friends, okay? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t do much of anything at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything’s empty. An empty pit in his stomach. The feeling of all of the breath leaving his lungs, how they’re practically begging for air but it just won’t come. A backpack full of boulders holding him down, trying to snap his spine. He can feel his breathing start to accelerate, he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, and he begs himself to stop. Not right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan knows, alright? He knows he’s useless. He knows he’s nothing. And he’s just been lying to himself when he tries to convince himself that Connor’s his friend, that Connor still enjoys his company, because who would? Why would </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He’s annoying. He repeats words when he talks. Social cues aren’t really his thing. He’s… he’s the worst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Evan, I…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor turns to face him, steely gaze looking right past Evan, right through him. He looks like he’s tensing every muscle in his face. “I need a break, okay? You’re just… I’m sorry, but you’re a lot. I just… can’t handle it. I need a fucking break for once. I feel like your goddamn babysitter sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor turns away, runs a hand through his hair, takes a sharp breath in, and takes another drag. Evan feels every rip, every tear, every tendon snapping as his heart is torn in half. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t know anything else, is the thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan and Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span> for as long as he could remember. For years, that’s what it was. Evan liked it that way. It was simple, because Evan’s best friend was Connor and Connor’s best friend was Evan. Easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should leave,” Connor croaks, clearing his throat. He won’t look at Evan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's probably an illusion that it seems like Connor might be crying. Probably just Evan’s brain that </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor to be upset about this. If anything, he’s crying with joy that Evan’s finally fucking leaving him alone. Giving him some peace and quiet. No more rambling. Evan won’t be able to bother him for once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wishes Connor would yell. He wishes that Connor would do anything but sit there, refusing to look at him, his body shaking like a leaf even though there’s no possible way he could be cold, fingers digging into his skin. He wants Connor to give some sign of life, something to let Evan know that the Connor he’s always known is still in there somewhere. That it’s all just some sick joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s a ghost as he clambers through Connor’s window, down his steps, and out his front door. He’s a shell of a person as he glances up at Connor’s window, closed with the blinds drawn. Like this thing between them had never even happened, like Connor was never even in Evan’s life in the first place. He exists purely as a body as he makes his way down Connor’s street, down the sidewalk that he’s learned the ins and outs of simply from walking it so many times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mom, surprisingly, is on the couch when Evan pushes through the door. She looks up and smiles at him, opening her mouth to greet him or something, and. Something in him just snaps. Before he felt numb, like he didn’t even exist, but at the falling look on his mother’s face... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s face twists up; contorts itself into something ugly and sad and he’s not able to stop it. The first sob rips out of him and his mother’s at his side in a second, grabbing his arm, speaking at him. He can’t hear what she’s saying through the rushing sound in his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And for the first time since he was a little boy, he lets go, and he lets his mother hold him through it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t we hang out when we were, like… really little?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan lets his eyes close for a moment. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, kindergarten, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little bit in middle school?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little,” Evan agrees, and he dreads the inevitable question. He can feel it coming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jared starts, pacing around Evan’s room, “Thought I’d see that Murphy kid around here somewhere. He’s missed a shit ton of school, so I guess I kinda just assumed that he finally snapped and you were harboring him as a fugitive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan just lays there, numb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okaaaay, hit a nerve there,” Jared says awkwardly, sighing and sitting down at Evan’s desk chair. “If it ended with him going all psycho on you, I could’ve told you that from the beginning. Dude’s insane.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared’s got it all wrong. Connor’s not the problem. The problem is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan agrees, just so Jared will shut up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously. Do you remember how he beat up that older kid when we were in fifth grade? The lunch line?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not how it happened at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Evan wants to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was standing up for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I remember that,” Evan says instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, man. That was some crazy shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan follows the patterns in his ceiling with his eyes, how it loops and swirls around without any direction. Evan can relate to that stupid old water-stained ceiling; lost, useless, ugly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have shit to do around here, do you?” Jared asks him, and Evan sighs, glancing over at him as he spins precariously tipped back on Evan’s desk chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fun,” Jared drones, flat and monotone. It’s like everything anyone does reminds him of Connor. He can’t fucking escape it. He’s everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s everywhere, and he’s nowhere, and it’s Evan’s fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can leave if you want,” Evan tells Jared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fun idea, but I can’t. I don’t have a car and my moms would actually kill me if I just left. Y’know, since your mom basically </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilted</span>
  </em>
  <span> mine into making me hang out with you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The swirls on the ceiling seem to shift and move all on their own, colliding together and phasing through one another, spinning, spinning, spinning. Evan feels sick, the feeling of vertigo sitting silent like a rock in his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I want my twenty bucks, so I’m staying,” Jared tacks on. “Hey, you got a computer somewhere?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Downstairs,” Evan mutters, wondering if he’ll ever feel the same again. If he’ll ever feel anything good ever again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Killer</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jared says happily, although still somehow sarcastic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s pretty sure everything that he says, everything that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> pisses Jared off. No matter what it is. Makes him angry that he has to be here, sitting with Evan’s sorry ass when he could be with his </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like Connor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared opens Evan’s bedroom door with a creak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes a shallow shaky breath as he counts the moments until Jared leaves, until he hears the click of the door closing or even worse, slamming, just waiting to let it all go. Crying is all he can seem to do lately. It’s all he wants to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Jared says, and Evan looks over at his door. Jared’s standing there, hands on his hips. He lifts an eyebrow at him. “You coming or what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan just blinks at him. “I—?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared rolls his eyes. “C’mon, dude. Let’s go, I don’t have all day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in Evan’s chest lightens up, just a little. The weight is lifted, if only for a second. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>“Yeah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the tag is ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING DON'T KILL ME</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. eleventh grade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor doesn’t look through him. He looks right at him, right in his eyes, and for a second, he looks… bright. Like he’s forgotten how he’s supposed to look at Evan. How he’s supposed to stop and glare and move on. Because he doesn’t, he doesn’t move on, and he doesn’t glare. </p><p>For a moment, just a moment, it’s only them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO AM BACC<br/>warnings for mentions of suicide and suicide ideation. also references to hanging at the very end, stay safe lovelies &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>History is one of Evan’s favorite subjects. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure why, but he could guess. History is definite, it’s unchangeable, it’s certain. There’s no dispute. Something is proven, or something is discovered, and that’s just how it is. There’s always something to question, yeah, but for the most part, it’s in the past. It’s safe, almost. Evan takes comfort in that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s never really excited about going to class, because he’s not really excited about a lot of things, but this is different. He’s heard that the teacher is really nice, at least from the conversations he’s listened in on in the hallways, and that the class is relatively easy. All he has to do is read, and then they have the occasional follow-along worksheet that directly follows the textbook, so it sounds like something Evan can actually handle. He’s looking forward to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door is propped open and he slinks through the entrance, head down, as per usual. He looks up through his lashes at the smartboard, at the seating chart posted for everyone to see, and he searches for his own name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he’s pretty sure his heart skips an actual full beat when he finds it, and when his eyes fall upon the seats surrounding his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>EVAN HANSEN</span>
  </em>
  <span> is written in bold letters on the box indicating the seat directly in the middle of the first row, right where everyone can see him. Where everyone can </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him, or laugh at him, and he won’t be able to see it. He won’t even know it’s happening. Where he’s in the way, and he doesn’t have the comfort of a wall to his side or his back, and he’s directly in line of sight of their teacher. Where he can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hide</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He feels his heartbeat in his palms as they start to sweat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the box in the corner of the room, with two walls on both sides of him, is the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>JARED KLEINMAN</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That absolute fucking dick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In those same bold letters, in the box directly behind Evan’s, is the name that Evan never wanted to see in such close proximity to his ever again:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CONNOR MURPHY</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heartbeat in his palms travels up to his throat and he almost chokes on his spit, swallowing it down and just standing there next to the door, taking up more space. Someone pushes around him without a word, jostling him out of his thoughts, and he starts to shake from head to toe as he risks a glance upward, at his seat and then the seats around it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A girl’s doodling in the seat to his left. He’s seen her around before, with long braids that hang prettily over her shoulder. To his right, some boy is sitting there picking his nose like no one’s watching him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in the seat behind Evan’s sits… no one. Absolutely no one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan breathes out a shaky sigh of relief, turning back to get some hand sanitizer before he heads to his seat. Just to be safe. You can never be too safe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Class comes and goes, and there’s no sign of Connor. Evan’s heart never stops pounding the whole time, waiting for Connor to slam open the door and give Evan a dirty look and probably, like, stab him in the back with a pencil or something. He’s heard a lot of things about Connor in the past couple of years, mostly from Jared, but from what it sounds like, Connor’s gotten… violent. Like, really violent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like, doing-drugs-and-breaking-bones-and-stabbing-people violent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Evan and Connor were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan and Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was never like that. Evan didn’t believe that Connor could ever be like that. Sure, as time went on he got more angry, more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>snappy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he’s never been so angry that he’s hit someone. Or something. But Evan’s not blind, okay, and he keeps tabs on his ex-best-friend because for some fucking reason he’s still obsessed with him and his well-being, wondering if he’s okay, wondering what the fuck he did wrong, a constant repeating echo in the back of his head— and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sees</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Connor’s not good. He sees the bruises on his knuckles and the dark circles under his eyes and his hair that used to look so soft, now tangled and greasy as it hangs right above his shoulders. He sees Connor’s sunken cheeks and red eyes and dirty clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan never used to be able to picture that side of Connor, the one everyone used to say was his entire being, but… now that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sees</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, it’s looking more and more like this version of Connor is more than capable of being what everyone says he is. What he’s become. A monster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Evan’s afraid of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s kind of hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be when you’re on the bad side of your school’s most hated bully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And a part of him feels bad for thinking of him like that, but… that’s what he is. And, like Jared’s had to remind him at least a million times, Connor said some fucked up shit that Evan doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get out of his head. Jared </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> reminds him that he’s allowed to be angry, and that he’s allowed to hate Connor, and that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared hates Connor. He makes that very clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Evan doesn’t. Not really. He’s past that. He used to go up to his room and cry and scream and curse Connor’s name, but. Now he’s just… sad. He’s scared; scared of what Connor will do to himself, scared of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself, and he’s fucking sad that things had to end like they did, and it hurts so badly every time he passes Connor in the hall, looking more like a corpse every time. And he feels fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, guilty that he wasn’t able to make Connor better and guilty that he still cares about him, he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> even after Connor treated him like shit and tossed him aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jared says suddenly, poking Evan in the arm. “Wake up, man. You’re like a zombie today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Evan mutters, shaking his head. “Couldn’t sleep last night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep,” Jared tells him, holding onto his backpack straps. He puts a hand on Evan’s chest to stop him, right in the middle of the hall, half-blocking the entrance to the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen. I dunno what the fuck’s going on with you, but something’s up. And I swear to god, if Murphy did something to you—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s. It’s not like that, Jared,” Evan says softly, pushing past him and walking into the cafeteria. He hunches in on himself, trying to ignore the stares. “I’m… I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those two words take him back to a conversation that feels like so, so long ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright. Sure.” Evan doesn’t look at him as they head toward their table, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Jared looking at him. “For real. I’m worried about you, dude. Like… if you go and throw yourself off of a bridge or something, I’ll feel morally responsible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s stomach drops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels like he’s going to vomit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know. He can’t. Evan hasn’t told anyone, not even his therapist. Not even random strangers on the internet. He’s barely even dealt with it in the comfort of his own mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s— that’s pretty morbid, Jared,” Evan manages to stutter out, keeping his voice even. “I dunno why you would even— why, why would you even say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Chill</span>
  </em>
  <span>, bro. I’m just sayin’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Jared’s off to the lunch line, leaving Evan to stew in his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no way that Jared knows that sometimes, the only solution he can think of is just… just ending it. There’s no way that Jared can pick up on the fact that he considers it every time he wakes up in the morning, thinks about how much easier it would be if he could just disappear. How much easier it would be for everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How sometimes, he thinks about which way would be easiest. Quickest. Least painful. Most private. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan acts as normal as he can. He gets his lunch, laughs along to Jared’s stories at the appropriate times, and tries to force himself to eat something. He acts normal, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as long as he keeps it up, no one will know that it’s the farthest from the truth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The period before government is usually when Evan sees Connor in the halls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s learned that now, learned which halls to go down to make sure they don’t run into each other beforehand. How to get to class faster so he can just stare down at his desk so Connor doesn’t look at him, and so he doesn’t look at Connor. He’s tempted; god, he’s so fucking tempted, but we won’t let himself do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not when he knows Connor’s looking back at him, anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s stupid. Connor will pass him and Evan will only look when he’s sure Connor’s not, when his back is to him and he’s walking away, but. Sometimes, when Evan looks back, Connor does too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those times are the worst. Connor doesn’t even need to punch him, because Evan feels that immediate icy cold glare in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s running late today. He took way too damn long on his stupid chem test, and he’s pretty sure he failed it anyway, so now he’s rushing through the halls and praying that he’s not late. He can’t handle it. And he can’t afford to take the long way today, not when he’s this behind schedule, so his heart is thumping hard as he heads toward the classroom. The last thing he wants is to run into Connor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The starts to ring the second he turns down the hallway to his class. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can see the door, for God’s sake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he can’t skip class, because then they’d call his mom, and then she’d be mad, and then he’d be in trouble, and then he’d cry more than he usually does and he’d have those stupid fucking intrusive thoughts and then maybe he’d actually do something about them this time, maybe he’d act on them, and—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes to class. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Midler has already closed the door by the time he gets there, so he shifts backward from foot to foot as he builds up the courage to knock on the door. Just one knock. He can do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan knocks two times in quick succession and cringes at the noise it makes. His heartbeat quickens when the soft buzz of his classmate’s voices come to a trickling halt, and he sees his teacher’s disappointed face through the little window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for finally showing up, Mr. Hansen,” He drawls with scalding sarcasm the second that Evan sheepishly steps inside, cheeks burning, head down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that everyone is looking at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows that </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> is probably looking at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The temptation is too much. It’s overwhelming. So he lifts his head just a little as he shuffles over to his desk, and this time, Connor’s in the seat behind his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’s not looking at Evan. He’s not glaring. He’s got his head down, greasy hair fallen over his arms, his back gently rising and falling as he breathes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s breathing. That’s good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan shouldn’t care. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t fucking care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he does. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he does. He cares so much. It’s not even fair, it’s not fucking fair how deep Connor’s clawed his way into Evan’s heart. It’s not fair at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take a seat, please,” Mr. Midler sighs, and Evan glances around as he realizes he hasn’t moved. People are staring at him, amused expressions on their faces. Like they’re almost laughing at him. Two girls in the seats just behind him and to the left share a smiling glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes a seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I assume everyone completed yesterday’s worksheets,” Mr. Midler drones, “So pass those to the front of your rows. And since we didn’t get to finish yesterday’s readings in class, we’ll do those next.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan feels a sharp spike of fear when he realizes what he has to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears Connor sigh from behind him, probably pissed off at the fact that he’s being forced to interact with Evan— but he just clears his throat and gently pokes Evan’s back with the stack of papers once they’ve all been collected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>jumps</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it happens, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Evan barely turns around, extending a shaking hand behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor pushes the pages gently against the palm of his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Easy. Simple. Nonviolent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes a breath in. Just one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Evan hears as he stares down at his textbook, the papers being swiped off his desk. “Now… who wants to volunteer to read the first paragraph?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan squeezes his eyes shut tight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not me, not me, not me. Please not me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl to his left raises her hand high, but Mr. Midler promptly ignores her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He says instead, coming to stand right in front of Evan’s desk. Fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span> “Since you decided that being on time to my class wasn’t important today, how about you start us off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s not a single breath of air in Evan’s lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hansen,” His teacher says, tapping on his textbook. “Read. Paragraph.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, um…” Evan manages, coughing and pulling the book closer to him. His heart is in his throat. “Um…” Every word is blurry, fading together and swirling like his bedroom ceiling. “Okay, um, so…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Midler sighs. Someone covers up a laugh with a cough from behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… the… the final draft of the art— the Articles… the Confeder— the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Articles of Confederation which formed the base</span>
  </em>
  <span>— the basis of… which formed the basis of the new n—nation’s government…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can breathe a little easier when Mr. Midler walks away, nodding along, but then Evan hears a snort followed by a muted giggle coming from behind him and a little to the left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stops. Shakes his head, tries to clear it of anything except the words on the page, but—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan leans in closer to his textbook. Is that English? Are those even </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He blinks tears out of his eyes, or maybe it’s just sweat, because he’s pretty sure he’s sweating all over this book right now and everyone must think he’s fucking stupid. He can’t even read a textbook. He can’t even breathe right. He’s such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck-up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The… the Articles— the new nation’s government, I mean, um, was accepted—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another giggle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, from directly behind him, a familiar voice. Just loud enough that Evan can hear it, but soft enough that it doesn’t extend to Mr. Midler’s desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck up</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor hisses quietly, and at first Evan thinks it’s directed toward him, his voice immediately stuck in his throat. But then the giggling stops short, and Evan hears a scoff, and then it’s quiet again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet in his brain, even if only for a second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Evan breathes. And then he continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The new nation’s government was— was accepted by congress in November 1777 and— and submitted by, um—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, will someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> put me out of my misery and read this first paragraph so we can be out of here in 40 minutes?” Mr. Midler says, earning a couple more laughs. Evan can pick Jared’s out of the bunch. The ones behind him and to the left are almost nonexistent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s pretty sure his heart isn’t supposed to do what it’s doing, to be quite honest. It’s not supposed to flutter that fast. His lungs aren’t supposed to feel like they’re full of water. His face isn’t supposed to feel like it’s receiving a third degree burn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Midler sighs with relief. Evan stares wide-eyed at his textbook, at his bandaged fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Beck, go for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl to his right clears her throat. “The final draft of the Articles of Confederation, which formed the basis of the new nation’s government, was accepted by Congress in November 1777 and submitted to the states for ratification. It would not become the law of the land until all thirteen states…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan tries his best to just breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the first interaction (albeit very indirect) that Evan’s had with Connor in… in years. Actual years. And he’s a bit shaken up, if he’s being honest with himself. Just the sound of Connor’s voice is enough to bring back that awful weighted feeling in his chest, and then he’s hearing little fifth grade Connor telling Aaron D. to shut the fuck up for calling Evan names, and he’s hearing Connor’s laugh, and then he hears </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ll hate me</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then he hears Connor calling him annoying and then it’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> I feel like your goddamn babysitter sometimes </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you should leave</span>
  </em>
  <span> and, and, and—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s not sure how he makes it through the rest of the period, to be honest. He wasn’t there for most of it, not mentally. He was in his chair, yeah, but the whole entire time his thoughts were somewhere else. By the time Jared taps on his desk everyone else in the room has left, and Jared gives him the same look he’s been giving him for the last month and a half.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask anymore, though, which Evan’s eternally grateful for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, dude,” Jared sighs, exasperated, picking up Evan’s books and carrying them out with his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His cheeks burn with embarrassment as Mr. Midler watches them go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second they reach the hallway, the usual dull hum has been amped up to a dull roar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a crowd of people right in the middle, some shoving others out of the way to get to the center of the circle. There’s laughing, and mouths are agape in shock, and Jared is right on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wonder which poor soul it is this time,” He smiles, setting their books on the ground next to the wall and rushing forward. “C’mon, you don’t wanna miss the action.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t like fights. He doesn’t appreciate them, not like the rest of his school seems to. But he follows, because that’s what he does. And as he gets closer, he sees girls shielding their phones in case teachers walk past, holding them as close as possible to film whatever’s happening, laughing and covering their mouths. Guys are shifting around trying to get the best look, laughing and cheering, and Evan hears the odd </span>
  <em>
    <span>ohhhh</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming from the loudest guys and the crowd as he approaches every time something interesting happens. Evan hears a </span>
  <em>
    <span>what are you gonna do, hit me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Jared pushes past the girls in the back, with absolutely no regard for anyone’s personal space as usual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan glances back just once, checks over his shoulder to see if anyone’s there, and then clamps a hand down on Jared’s shoulder so he doesn’t lose him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared gets them to the front and Evan feels every nerve ending as people bump into him and shout right next to his ear, and it takes him a second just to force his eyes open. But as he peeks over Jared’s shoulder and Jared tugs him around to stand right next to him, ignoring Evan’s muttered apologies when he bumps into people he’s never even seen before, he can’t say he’s all that surprised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to hit you. I bet your dad does that enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s taller than this guy by half a foot, looking down at him like this is the least exciting thing he’s ever done. It almost makes Evan smile, weirdly enough, that oddly distant but so familiar expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ll fucking pay for that, Murphy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he launches himself at Connor, shoving him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> so that his back hits the wall and his head slams against the bricks there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More </span>
  <em>
    <span>ohhh’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the crowd. Connor’s got a new fire in his eyes when he looks at the kid through his lashes, brushing a hand over the back of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan can’t just watch this. He can’t just stand here and watch this happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what he fuckin’ deserves,” Jared mutters, elbowing Evan in the ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan should </span>
  <em>
    <span>do something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it back or I’ll bash your fucking face in,” The shorter guy says, taking a step closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He should say something. Grow some balls and tell that kid to knock it off, or usher the crowd away or something. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fuck are you waiting for, then?” Connor taunts back, craning his neck so that there’s perfect access to his jaw. “Come on. Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>do it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s frozen. He’s frozen to the ground, stuck in one spot. Someone’s dunked his shoes in cement, and he sinks even deeper when Connor spares a glance in his direction, blinking twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t look through him. He looks right </span>
  <em>
    <span>at</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, right in his eyes, and for a second, he looks… bright. Like he’s forgotten how he’s supposed to look at Evan. How he’s supposed to stop and glare and move on. Because he doesn’t, he doesn’t move on, and he doesn’t glare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, just a moment, it’s only them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then they’re existing in real time again, and Connor’s eyebrows pull together, and then he gets the ghost of a bitter smirk on his face. He shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, face going blank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, with their weird almost-psychic connection that they’ve always seemed to have for some fucking reason, Evan knows exactly what that look means. It’s so familiar that Evan can almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor saying it, his tone biting and disappointed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's just like you to sit there and do nothing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shame washes over Evan from head to toe, a warm wave of nausea, like a punch in the gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> being punched in the gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, almost. Kind of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jared’s elbow slams into his side as he’s pushed backward, a hush falling over the crowd as Mr. Midler makes his way to the middle of the circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get to class, all of you,” He shouts, right next to Evan’s ear, and Evan immediately startles and grabs onto Jared’s arm. Jared immediately shoves him off, shooting him a look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their teacher walks right past the shorter kid and Connor, who’s got his arms crossed and a bored look on his face. He’s leaning against the wall. Evan can’t look away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s so thin. Thinner than he used to be. It makes him look more gangly, more gawky and awkward than he already did before, back when he didn’t hate Evan with everything he had. Back before Evan fucked everything up. Connor’s face is so expressionless that Evan wonders if he’s even in there, if that’s even Connor. It doesn’t look like him. And whoever that is doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>act</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Connor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan, c’mon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jared huffs at the same time as Mr. Midler finally pushes past everyone, motioning at Connor and the guy that pushed him and goes, “Murphy, Price, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan can’t help himself when he glances back at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Connor doesn’t look back at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what people are saying. That’s what they’re saying about Connor. That’s why he missed the whole last week of school, why he’d been so dead at school lately. Why Zoe’s missed so much school, too. Because Connor tried to kill himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan didn’t even get to see him before school ended for the summer. He didn’t know that he wasn’t going to get to see him before school ended; he wasn’t paying enough attention. He didn’t take the time to study Connor’s face, to memorize those features for the thousandth time. He didn’t know that this could be the last time he’d get to see him possibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And. He doesn’t know if Connor’s okay or not. All they said was that Connor Murphy tied a rope up in his closet and kicked himself off a chair. That’s all they said. That’s where they stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thought keeps spinning around and around in Evan’s head, pushing all of the others out of the way and standing in the forefront of his mind. Circling and circling, driving him fucking crazy. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>succeeded</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>come scream at me for this cliffhanger on tumblr: c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. a year out of high school</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You don’t have to lie to me, dude. I get it, okay? Everybody has a slut phase. This just so happens to be your time to shine.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello i am very sorry<br/>THIS TOOK FOREVER but hopefully the fact that it's like 8k words will make up for it. I wanted to make sure that it was good and that I included everything i wanted to include an YEAH SO,,,<br/>p sure this is the last chapter!!! possibly an epilogue. thank u so much to everyone who's waited and who's supported this story and also just me in general like I love y'all so much seriously ;_;<br/>i hope you guys love it!!! and happy bunny day/Easter to those who celebrate!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not too forward, but not too shy either. Approachable. Funny, maybe. Maybe a joke or something. A pun? Everyone likes puns. </p><p> </p><p>Casual. Lighthearted. Genuine. </p><p> </p><p>Evan can do that. </p><p> </p><p>Evan can be approachable. He can be lighthearted and genuine and funny and casual and, like… everything else that he’s never been a day in his life. </p><p> </p><p>Sure. Easy. It’s simple, really. </p><p> </p><p>Just <em>lie</em>. That’s all Evan has to do.</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s been trying really fucking hard not to lie anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not <em>lying</em>, dude,” Jared says, exasperated, his tinny voice coming through the speaker of Evan’s phone and practically echoing through his entire fucking room. Evan quickly scrambles to turn it down just a bit, glancing out the window to check that his mom’s not home and is secretly listening to his conversation about a stupid dating app so that she can question him about it and ask him if he’s talking to any girls and then because he’s avoiding the question his mom will ask him if he’s talking to any boys and tell him that it’s okay if he’s gay and then Evan will have to tell her that he’s not gay, he’s just, like… <em>half</em> gay, even though that’s not really even accurate, but he’ll have to say it that way because she’s old and she doesn’t even know better and then he’ll die of embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p><em>Which is irrational</em>, Evan thinks to himself. His mother is at work. He knows this.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s basically lying,” Evan huffs, flopping back on his bed and holding his phone at arm’s length. He scrolls up and down his profile, pursing his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus <em>Christ</em>. You’re never gonna get pussy if you keep this up, man.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sputters, holding back a cough. He can feel his cheeks turning red and sighs as he frantically takes his phone off speaker and presses it to his warming ear. “Jared, that’s not— that’s not it at <em>all</em>, I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what is it then?” Jared asks, laughing. There’s a sort of shuffling noise in the background. </p><p> </p><p>“I… I’m just trying to make friends, you know, like—? Like, I’m just trying to— to get a <em>date</em> or something, maybe, I dunno—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, a <em>date</em>,” Jared mocks him, laughing again. “Okay. Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jared—”</p><p> </p><p>“In this day and age?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just— <em>ugh</em>—“</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to lie to me, dude. I get it, okay? Everybody has a slut phase. This just so happens to be your time to shine.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Just</em>— just tell me how to make this profile good or else I’m hanging up, okay?” Evan says all in one breath, running his hand through his hair and relaxing against his sheets. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Wooooah</em>, dude. Chillax.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I. I’m serious, okay?” Evan says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll hang up. I’m serious.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, shit. Jesus. What d’you have so far anyway? Send me a screenshot and I’ll do, like, a full-on critique for you and everything.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan stops breathing for a second. </p><p> </p><p>“N—no.”</p><p> </p><p>He thinks back to making the profile. Selecting his age, his height, his personal preferences. Does he drink? Does he smoke?</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>? Dude, what?”</p><p> </p><p>And then there were his… even more personal preferences. Who he’d like to see as options. He remembers selecting the <em>women</em> option. </p><p> </p><p>And then he selected the <em>men</em> option. </p><p> </p><p>“Just—“ Evan takes a breath. “Just. The only thing I’m— I’m having issues with is the. The description. What— what should I put there, like—? Um— I just… like, I never know what to, um—“</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, Evan. Are you posting <em>nudey pics </em>on your<em> tinder profile</em>? You sly dog.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>, I— god— no, I didn’t— I <em>don’t</em>—“</p><p> </p><p>“Chill, I’m just kidding,” Jared brushes him off. There’s a second of silence. “Oh, okay. I get it. Is it because you like dudes?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared sounds casual. </p><p> </p><p>And genuine.</p><p> </p><p>Evan doesn’t say a word. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t. </p><p> </p><p>“I…” </p><p> </p><p>Except <em>that</em>. Which isn’t helpful. </p><p> </p><p>“Dude, you could’ve told me. I already fuckin’ told you I’m an <em>equal opportunity employer</em>,” Jared snorts, “ So it’s not like I care.”</p><p> </p><p>“I… <em>no</em>, I…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve known forever, by the way,” Jared adds, “Like… we’ve been friends forever. I can read you like a… I was gonna say a book, but I haven’t read one of those in a hot minute… uhh… like a fuckin’... a Reddit post, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan shuts his eyes tight, shakes his head. </p><p> </p><p>“You… no, it’s… here’s the thing, though, is that I um, I actually… I’m <em>not</em>…”</p><p> </p><p>He hears Jared sigh softly. </p><p> </p><p>His reaction is far from convincing. No point in lying now. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Evan breathes, allowing himself to relax. “Yeah, I. Yeah. Guys, too. So.”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno why you’re so freaked out, man,” Jared drawls, “We’re in college now. Nobody gives a shit about any of that. I sure as fuck don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re. You’re right,” Evan says, even though he’s pretty sure that Jared’s forgotten the fact that Evan’s not even in college yet. </p><p> </p><p>Jared hums in confirmation. “I sure am.”</p><p> </p><p>And then. </p><p> </p><p>“So send me your fuckin’ profile already, dingus.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan breathes a relieved laugh through his nose at Jared’s lighthearted tone. Evan can hear the smile in his voice. “<em>Okay</em>, fine. Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Apparently, Evan’s problem is that he doesn’t have enough good pictures of himself. Well, to put it in Jared’s words, Evan doesn’t have pictures that <em>showcase how fuckin’ hot he can be</em>. Which. Which Evan wants to believe, he wants to believe it was a genuine comment, but. </p><p> </p><p>He gets stuck on the whole <em>how hot you </em>can<em> be</em>, thing. Not, like. How hot you <em>are</em>. </p><p> </p><p>And it’s not like he wants Jared specifically to think he’s hot, he just. Evan’s always just been cute. He wants to be hot for once. Like, whenever he would interact with any girl in high school (and even a couple of them out of high school) they’d notice him tripping over his words and getting all red and think it was because he had some crush on them or something, and they’d be all, <em>aw, Evan, you’re blushing! You’re so cute.</em> </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t even that he was interacting with them in particular. Just. Just that he had to interact with <em>anyone</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He’s gotten a little better at that, truthfully. His new therapist actually cares about him getting better, not just about his mother’s checks and following procedures because of Evan’s medication needs as a minor, or whatever. </p><p> </p><p>It’s… nice, actually. It’s nice to have an unbiased opinion. Someone who doesn’t have to care about him, but does just because they do.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Jared sighs, bringing Evan back to reality. “I’m gonna go. Time difference, or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan furrows his brow. “Dude, you live in the next state over.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared sighs again, this time louder and more frustrated. “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you. <em>God</em>. Didn’t have to <em>beg</em>, Jesus. I’m seeing this guy Chad tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan can’t keep the smile off his face. “Chad, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>— see, I knew you would judge me,” Jared starts.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>, no no no, I—” But Evan stops, letting out a giggle he didn’t mean to let out. “I just—”</p><p> </p><p>“I knew this would happen. I’m being all supportive with this whole ‘selling your body on Tinder’ thing, and you go and judge me for—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“—trying to hook up with a guy named Chad just because he sounds like a republican.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan laughs again, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth. “Is he as dude-bro-y as his— as his name implies, or...?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared scoffs. “Of course not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… let me see him then.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pause. </p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are such a bad liar,” Evan laughs, barely able to keep hold of his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Alright</em>, I’m hanging up now. Bye.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun with <em>Chad</em>,” Evan says one more time, just because he has to, and Jared hangs up with an angry huff. Evan smiles to himself as he looks down at his phone, but the smile drops a bit when he’s brought right back to his Tinder profile. </p><p> </p><p>It’s… kind of stupid. It’s not like anyone would even swipe on him, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>Which is <em>negative</em>. He needs to stop being so negative. </p><p> </p><p>And so he cycles back to Jared indirectly calling him hot, which means that at one point Jared has looked at him just… <em>existing</em> and thought he was attractive, at least once, which means that Evan’s probably not that bad looking. Right? Like, he’s at least got a base level of attractiveness. At least.</p><p> </p><p>Jared would fuck anything that walks on two legs, though, so that might be invalid. </p><p> </p><p>And also Jared could be lying just to make Evan feel better about himself. That seems like something Jared would do. </p><p> </p><p>But Evan guesses that there are a plethora of people on Tinder that would stoop as low as Jared would, so. It’s worth a shot, right? Like… people that don’t find him attractive won’t be able to tell him that they don’t think he’s attractive. So there’s that. And if he doesn’t get any matches, that’s fine, because he likes being alone anyway.</p><p> </p><p><em>That’s a lie</em>, his brain supplies.</p><p> </p><p>And, okay. If he gets no matches… at least he won’t have to suffer through an awkward date. </p><p> </p><p>That’s something. </p><p> </p><p>So, like… why not?</p><p> </p><p>Evan ends up taking a goddamn selfie, and once approved by Jared (which took multiple attempts because Jared is hard to please), he uploads the photo to his profile. For his bio he manages to settle for a simple ‘I’m Evan, but you can see that. My sense of humor is entirely self-deprecating, so I’m very sorry.’ When he screenshots that and sends it to Jared for approval, he says it’s ‘very Evan’ which doesn’t really make Evan feel a whole lot better, but it’ll do. And Jared also tells him to fuck off so he can get ready for his date.</p><p> </p><p>With <em>Chad</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jared would go for someone named Chad.</p><p> </p><p>As he settles into bed for the night, contemplating whether or not to delete his profile for good because so far he’s gotten zero matches despite looking through the entirety of the single (and not so single) population of people looking for men in his shitty town, his phone buzzes. </p><p> </p><p><em>It’s a match</em>, it tells him. </p><p> </p><p>A girl named Anna. Who is, like… the last person Evan had expected to match with. Simply because she’s, like, the prettiest girl Evan’s seen so far on this stupid app, and she seems like she’s actually got a personality, and she’s not looking for hookups, so. </p><p> </p><p>Evan just… didn’t think he’d stand a chance, quite honestly. </p><p> </p><p>As he finally turns his phone off for the night, he thinks that dating someone might not be so bad after all. </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“<em>She</em> messaged <em>you</em> first? Holy shit,” Jared laughs, slapping his hand on the table. Evan tries his best to ignore the way they’re being stared at by everyone else in the café. “How in the shit did you manage to find someone like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno,” Evan answers distractedly, tapping out a message on his phone. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dude</em>. I came all the way down here to see you and you’re ignoring me for this girl you just started talking to? I’m appalled, really.” He sits back and crosses his arms. </p><p> </p><p>Evan rolls his eyes. “You drove, like, 45 minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared scoffs, leaning against the table again. “Where did this attitude come from?”</p><p> </p><p>But when Evan looks up, Jared’s smiling. </p><p> </p><p>He takes a sip of his coffee, narrowing his eyes at Evan. </p><p> </p><p>“You must really like her, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>And then he waggles his eyebrows. </p><p> </p><p>And Evan has to laugh, because… he’s not sure. Yeah, she messaged him first, but ever since then she’s only been responding to Evan’s questions with a couple of words. She doesn’t even ask any new ones. And Evan’s been trying to save it, he has, because Anna was his first Tinder match and he feels some sort of weird obligation to keep trying because of that, but. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s alright,” Evan says mildly, avoiding Jared’s eyes and fiddling with the string on his teabag. He locks his gaze on his half-eaten muffin so he doesn’t have to see Jared’s stupid judgemental face. </p><p> </p><p>“See, I <em>knew</em> there had to be something wrong with her,” Jared declares, and Evan snorts. “What? No one messages the second after they match. It’s weird. And girls never message first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bold assumptions,” Evan mutters, defensive, but Jared talks over him anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Listen, dude. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, okay? Let me see your phone.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared reaches for Evan’s phone lying next to him on the table, but Evan gets there first. </p><p> </p><p>“No. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Evan</em>. I swear I won’t snoop. I already know all your dirty little secrets, okay? You can trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>And then Jared gives a smile that would be angelic coming from any other person, but the way he delivers it is devious. </p><p> </p><p>Evan rolls his eyes and hands it over. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>He picks at his fingernails to distract from his racing thoughts as Jared types in his passcode, mostly consisting of <em>what if I didn’t delete those failed selfies </em>and<em> what if I accidentally downloaded really embarrassing porn</em> and so on. </p><p> </p><p>“So, um… you never really told me anything about your <em>fish in the sea,</em>” Evan says softly, over-exaggerating the last part. “Chad.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared doesn’t even look up from Evan’s phone. “He <em>was</em> like a fish, actually. A piranha. You know… huge bulging eyes. Scrapey teeth. Very, like… floppy.” Jared scrunches up his nose, shaking his head like he’s trying to get that mental picture to vanish. </p><p> </p><p>Evan is too.</p><p> </p><p>“Ew,” Evan can’t help but laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, let’s see… nah, she’s not your type… her either…” Jared’s swiping left, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow. </p><p> </p><p>“I have a type?” Evan asks, amused. </p><p> </p><p>“Everyone has a type,” Jared tells him dismissively. “No, no, <em>no</em>… why are there, like, actually no dudes on here?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “I guess there are just more women looking for men than, like… men looking for men.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared hums. “Disappointing,” He mumbles, continuous in his swiping. “You should get Grindr.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus. I’m not getting <em>Grindr</em>, Jared. Oh my god.”</p><p> </p><p>And then Jared stops. “Oh shit,” He whispers, and Evan smiles. He picks up his muffin.</p><p> </p><p>“What, did you find my soulmate or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared blinks at Evan’s phone a couple of times. “...Or something,” He answers, shaking his head. </p><p> </p><p>Evan begins to panic. Because maybe he didn’t delete those pictures and maybe Jared’s found a whole goldmine, or maybe he’s in Evan’s recently deleted file and he’s looking at <em>everything that Evan’s ever deleted</em> and—</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Evan asks exasperatedly at the same time that Jared sighs, sliding Evan’s phone across the table. </p><p> </p><p>“Why do shitty people get to be hot? Like, they don’t fuckin’ deserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>When Evan looks down, taking his phone in his other hand, he’s suddenly got no breath left to breathe. </p><p> </p><p>Because staring back up at him is a face he hasn’t seen in a long time. One he hasn’t thought about in months, someone he hasn’t missed for a while.</p><p> </p><p>It all comes crashing back when he sees Connor Murphy’s short tousled hair and crooked smile. </p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden the muffin resting half-eaten in his palm isn’t as appealing anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“And this asshole sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. It’s such <em>bullshit</em>,” Jared continues. “The universe <em>sucks</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>But Evan doesn’t hear him, not really. </p><p> </p><p>It’s… strange. It’s that weird nostalgic empty feeling, one that tingles at the back of your brain until all the pieces are put together again. Like a dream that you’re not sure is actually a dream or not. </p><p> </p><p>Evan swipes through the photos as Jared rambles, taking the time to study each one. Like he’s back in high school, trying to memorize the shape of Connor’s face in case he never got to see it again. </p><p> </p><p>Because, like… he almost didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>He’s forced himself not to look at Connor’s Facebook since graduation. And it’s not like Connor’s ever even on there anyway, because the last time Evan looked, the most recent post was from five years ago. And Connor doesn’t have an Instagram, which makes sense, and Evan’s never really been a fan of Twitter, and apparently neither has Connor, and… yeah. Evan does not go searching for Connor Murphy’s social media, not anymore. Not for at least a year. </p><p> </p><p>He’d almost forgotten. Almost. </p><p> </p><p>He’d almost been able to go a full week without thinking about him. Worrying about him. Wondering what he’s up to. If he’s missing Evan as much as Evan’s missing him. </p><p> </p><p>The first photo is… really cute, actually. It looks like it was taken by someone else, and Connor’s doing that little embarrassed smile-smirk and rolling his eyes and it’s so weird, honestly, to go from seeing long-haired greasy empty skinny <em>miserable</em> high school Connor to… whoever this is. </p><p> </p><p>Weird, but not in a bad way. </p><p> </p><p>He looks… decently happy. Like he’s not the sad, scared, angry kid he used to be. </p><p> </p><p>The next one is of him and his mom. <em>Cynthia</em>. She looks older, but not by much. It kind of looks like she’s gotten some work done, but Evan’s not judging. She looks good. She’s cut her hair shorter now, and it shocks a tiny smile onto Evan’s face when he notices their height difference. The last time he saw Connor even <em>remotely</em> close to his mother was middle school, and Connor was almost as tall as her then. He’s got at least a foot on her now. </p><p> </p><p>He looks like he’s grown a lot since Evan’s seen him last, actually. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s voice breaks through Evan’s thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“Could’ve sworn he would’ve offed himself by now.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s eyes are on Jared’s in less than a second. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s… that’s an awful thing to say, Jared,” Evan tells him, and he kind of can’t even believe Jared would say something like that. Like, Jared’s a dick, but he knows about Evan’s… shit. All of it. All of the shit that he went through senior year, and the stupid fucking tree in the stupid fucking park, he <em>knows</em>. Jared knows.</p><p> </p><p>“He fucked you up, man. Are you seriously still defending him? Like, for real?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan feels heat gathering in his cheeks. “Jared, he’s— people <em>change</em>, and he could be completely different now— and— and it’s not like I’m even gonna <em>do</em> anything about it, like I don’t— I just— I don’t think you should say shit like that about anyone— especially considering—“</p><p> </p><p>“Look, Ev, I know you’ve still got some weird thing for that sad excuse of a human, but come on. He’s a piece of shit. He treated <em>you</em> like <em>shit</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“We were <em>teenagers</em>!” Evan exclaims all of a sudden, it just bursts out of him, and then he’s shrinking back into his chair. He runs a hand through his hair. The redness has definitely reached his ears, because a couple of people turn and look at him. At them. Again. “I just— fuck. We were, like. We were <em>kids</em>, okay? I’m over it.”</p><p> </p><p>Jared sits back, a permanent scowl on his face. He rolls his eyes and Evan wants to deck him. “Listen, all I’m saying is that I wouldn’t trust him, alright? ”</p><p> </p><p>Evan huffs. “And all <em>I’m</em> saying is that unlike some people, I don’t have the mindset of a teenager who holds stupid fucking grudges anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan takes a deep breath, realizing too late that he’s just said all of that out loud. </p><p> </p><p>Like. Loudly. </p><p> </p><p>And Jared heard it loud and clear. </p><p> </p><p>He looks down, nodding, pursing his lips, and Evan kind of wants to cry. Or, like, melt into an embarrassed puddle on the disgusting floor of this cafe. He didn’t… like, he meant everything he said, but he didn’t mean to lay it all out there like that. In, like, the worst way possible, at least. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry—“ Evan murmurs at the same time as Jared says, “You’re right.”</p><p> </p><p>It takes him a second. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m… I’m <em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like… you’re not wrong,” Jared clarifies, always making sure he’s never giving anyone full credit. “I’m an insensitive dick. I’m the worst.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan licks his lips. Jared wants him to say no, no you’re not, but. Evan’s not doing that anymore. “Yeah, sometimes,” He agrees, standing his ground but avoiding Jared’s stare. “I… I never even said I wanted to, like— I never even said I wanted anything to do with him.”</p><p> </p><p><em>But you do</em>, Evan’s brain supplies. <em>You miss him.</em> </p><p> </p><p><em>I know, shut up,</em> Evan says back. </p><p> </p><p>Jared sighs loudly. Dramatically. </p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t want you to be, like… sad, alright? You’re practically my little brother. I gotta look out for you and shit.” Evan finally meets Jared’s eyes, and they’re kinder than they were before. </p><p> </p><p>The tension is gone almost as quickly as it came.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Pffft</em>, yeah, okay. You’re, like, what… a month older than me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thirty-three days,” Jared corrects him, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “Not that anyone’s counting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Obviously not,” Evan says back, and then Jared’s smiling at him. And Evan’s smiling back. </p><p> </p><p>Jared’s not going to apologize. He’s got too big of an ego for that. But this is sort of his way of apologizing— joking back and forth and kinda sorta vaguely admitting that Evan was right about something. </p><p> </p><p>It’s just how Jared is. </p><p> </p><p>“So are you gonna swipe on him?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “I dunno. No. I don’t think so. That would be...”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. As your big brother, the only thing I can do is advise and hope you take my <em>months</em> of more life experience to heart.”</p><p> </p><p>“Months, yeah,” Evan mumbles, and Jared laughs like a little shit. Evan shakes his head again. “I don’t… I don’t know. If I were to, like… reach out to him, I don’t really think I’d wanna do it over Tinder. You know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that would be… kinda super fuckin’ weird, man.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan nods, unlocking his phone again. Goes to swipe Connor off of his feed. </p><p> </p><p>And then. </p><p> </p><p>“Jared,” Evan chokes out. </p><p> </p><p>He’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat. He’s got arrhythmia for sure. A heart murmur. He’s having a heart attack.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up, baby bro? What wisdom can I bestow upon you now?” He asks jokingly, smiling a goofy smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Which, um…” Evan’s voice cracks. He clears his throat. “Which way means pass?”</p><p> </p><p>Jared presses his mouth into a hard line, his eyes going wide. There’s clear amusement playing in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth start to twitch upwards as he puts it all together. He pulls them down with one hand, trying not to laugh. “Left,” He says quietly, the quietest Jared Kleinman’s ever been in his entire life, probably, and Evan’s stomach drops. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Evan says. </p><p> </p><p>Jared just looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Evan, you didn’t,” He says eventually. </p><p> </p><p>Evan looks down. </p><p> </p><p>“I…”</p><p> </p><p>And then he slowly slides the phone back over to Jared. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Jared whispers, grabbing the phone and adjusting his glasses, because. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a match. </p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Anna asks Evan Hansen on a date that night. </p><p> </p><p>He’s surprised, too, because she’s never been the one to be forward and actually start a conversation. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks about saying yes. About taking her up on the offer and picking her up in his stupid old ugly car, and trying to compliment her and actually <em>talk</em> to her and he thinks about her just murmuring quiet little one-word responses and staring out the window, and he thinks about sitting across from her at a table and picking at his fingernails until the waitstaff comes over and asks them what they want to drink and silently judging them for being so quiet even though they’re so obviously on a date. And he thinks about driving her home after the most awkward hour and a half he’s ever been through in his entire life, and wondering if he should kiss her, and wondering if she even <em>wants</em> to kiss <em>him</em> and wondering if she’ll be upset or think he doesn’t like her if he doesn’t kiss her, and he thinks about her asking him out again and him accepting and he thinks about spending the rest of his life unhappy because he couldn’t just tell someone no for once. </p><p> </p><p>Evan decides to sleep on it.</p><p> </p><p>But every time he opens the stupid app to try and say something to Anna, some kind of excuse not to go out with her or a reason for his delayed response or just <em>anything</em>, his eyes catch on Connor Murphy’s stupid face and his stupid sideways grin and his stupid hair.</p><p> </p><p>He cut his hair off. </p><p> </p><p>And Evan would be upset about it if Connor didn’t look so fucking <em>good</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He opens Connor’s profile. Again. For the fifteenth time since they’ve matched.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Connor. Gay. 19. You probably won’t like me in person.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s pretty sure he’s read that sentence— or, like, that specific string of sentences— at least a hundred times already. And somehow his eyes always get stuck on the gay part, because, like. </p><p> </p><p>That explains a lot of things, actually.</p><p> </p><p>And also, whenever he reads that part some stupid tinny intrusive voice in the back of his head goes <em>you know what that means, right? It means he likes boys. You’re a boy. Maybe—</em></p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t let himself get past that, though. Because Connor only matched with him because they know each other, and that’s a thing that people who know each other do on dating sites, at least when they’re friends, or like, at least when they used to be friends. It’s a <em>thing</em>. Evan swears it’s a thing. </p><p> </p><p>Evan should say something. </p><p> </p><p>Evan <em>wants</em> to say something. </p><p> </p><p><em>Hey</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He sighs, tapping the backspace button until all the letters disappear. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was the period at the end. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That seems too… like, too casual for two people with a semi-complicated semi-relationship. </p><p> </p><p><em>Hello</em> is way too formal, and <em>hi</em> is way too cheerful and it’s not like he can just type <em>hey I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and I miss you and your stupid face and I’ve been wanting to reach out but I’m too scared and also at one point I was kind of in love with you and you were my bisexual awakening and also why the fuck did you cut your hair</em> because that’s just. </p><p> </p><p>Yeah. No. </p><p> </p><p>Evan lets out a long breath of pure frustration. </p><p> </p><p>He can try again in the morning. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a knock at his door, and then his mom’s stepping through just enough to peek into his room. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, honey.” She sounds so tired, so fucking exhausted, but she’s got that same cheery tone that she’s used ever since Evan was little. Trying to convince him everything’s okay. </p><p> </p><p>Evan can give her that. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi mom,” He responds, setting his phone down. “How was class?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, it was class, ya know? Only a couple more months until I get my <em>degree, though</em>!” She sing-songs, leaning against his door frame. “Early shift tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Evan says, sighing and shaking his head. “Close to ten hours, too. Some stupid sale that’s not even really a sale because— because everything’s always on sale but we pretend like it isn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Heidi hums. “The joys of retail.” And then she smiles at him, her tired eyes meeting his. “Well, I’ll let you rest up. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t,” Evan laughs. “Love you,” He tacks on before she can, because he feels like she just needs it. She needs him to say it first for once. </p><p> </p><p>She stops. Her smile is genuine this time. “I love you too, honey.”</p><p> </p><p>And when she closes the door behind her, Evan kind of misses her. He sees her more than he used to, sure, but… it’s different now. He has the freedom he didn’t have before, and yet he wants to use that time to be with her. To make sure she’s good and happy. </p><p> </p><p>Or at least that she’s okay. </p><p> </p><p>He’s never too sure. His mom’s really good at hiding how she feels from him. </p><p> </p><p>The clock on his home screen says that it’s almost midnight. Evan sighs, because there’s so much he wants to do, but work basically rules his life these days. He’s got to get to sleep soon or he’ll be absolutely fucking miserable in the morning. </p><p> </p><p>He sets his phone gently on his nightstand, cuddling into the sheets and that one too-warm crocheted blanket his grandma made for him that he uses simply because he feels bad when he doesn’t, and he lets his eyes close, finally letting himself relax.</p><p> </p><p>But life has a funny way of fucking with him, it seems, because. </p><p> </p><p>A buzz from his bedside table. Evan’s got a tinder notification.</p><p> </p><p>And. And of <em>course</em> he’s got to open it, he’s got to see if Anna’s asking him why he didn’t answer or if she’s the one canceling the date instead of Evan or if she’s, like, telling him she’s gonna block him on every form of social media because he didn’t answer right away and actually she’s sending that one selfie where you can kind of see his collarbone to his entire family as they speak and—</p><p> </p><p>But.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You know people can see when you’re typing, right?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s stupid pretty short-haired smile-smirking face stares back up at him from the little circular icon next to the chat bubble.</p><p> </p><p>And then Connor’s the one typing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hi, by the way. It’s been a while. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s heart is pounding against his ribs like a fucking sledgehammer, but at least he doesn’t have to send the first message. </p><p> </p><p>There’s another problem, though. </p><p> </p><p>Evan has to respond. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s thumbs hover over his keyboard, and his mind races and races around and around about how the fuck to respond, because they haven’t had a real conversation since the conversation, but.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do you want to get a drink or something?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A drink. Connor wants to get a drink with him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Emphasis on the ‘or something’. I’m not much of a drinker anyway.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Evan swallows. It’s audible, loud in his quiet room, and he’s pretty sure even his mother can hear how hard his heart is beating from two rooms over. </p><p> </p><p>Connor wants to see Evan. After everything. And Evan sure as hell wants to see Connor too, even after everything, and even though it makes him kind of want to vomit. But he’s pretty sure that Connor’s not out to murder him, and Jared’s still in town for a week so Evan can just let him know where he is and what he’s wearing just in case, so. </p><p> </p><p>So. </p><p> </p><p><em>Lunch?</em> He types with shaky fingers. It takes multiple attempts and many typos, but eventually he hits send and his message sits in their little chat for what seems like hours. </p><p> </p><p>And then. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do you still like Mexican food?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s hair isn’t as short as it was in his first Tinder photo. </p><p> </p><p>Not anymore, at least. It’s grown out quite a bit. </p><p> </p><p>He’s got half of it pulled back into a little bun, which is… like, totally not what Evan had expected from him, honestly. The rest of his hair curls up around his ears and his jaw, just like it used to when he started growing it out after he had it buzzed off, and the nostalgia hits Evan like a wave of nausea. </p><p> </p><p>After that, though, it’s a wave of tingling heat, because, like. </p><p> </p><p>Connor looks way better than his Tinder photos. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s not sure how, but his legs have gotten impossibly longer. Either that or he’s just grown another inch, which is actually totally fucking unfair. He’s also put a little bit of weight back on, which… <em>god</em>. Evan’s gaze gets stuck on Connor’s thighs for longer than it should. He’s still skinny, skinnier than he should be, but it’s… it’s not like how it was when Connor stopped eating.</p><p> </p><p>Connor looks so fucking good. </p><p> </p><p>Connor’s also, like… broader. He still hunches in on himself, but he stands a little taller now as he walks toward Evan, a shy smile on his face. He’s wearing a sweater, dark purple-grey and pushed up to his elbows, and his ears are still pierced, and Evan’s not sure but he’s almost positive that Connor’s wearing the same beat-up old boots that he’s always worn. </p><p> </p><p>And Evan’s also almost positive that he’s literally never going to get tired of looking at him. Ever. </p><p> </p><p>And then Connor's right in front of him. And Evan hasn’t said a word. </p><p> </p><p>“Fancy meeting you here,” Connor jokes, voice soft and breathy with nerves. Evan’s hit with the dizzying fact that it’s the most civil thing Connor’s said to him in almost four years. Connor ducks down and slides into the booth across from Evan, letting out a long breath and setting his keys on the table. </p><p> </p><p>And Evan still hasn’t said anything. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hi</em>,” He forces himself to blurt out, and Connor bites slightly down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. </p><p> </p><p>Evan lets out a shaky breath as he meets Connor’s eyes. They look the same as they always have; blue with a hint of brown. Maybe a little more light in them than Evan’s used to seeing. </p><p> </p><p>He’s sitting across from Connor Murphy for the first time in four years. </p><p> </p><p>So much has changed, and yet so much is still exactly the same. </p><p> </p><p>“So…” Connor starts, laughing awkwardly. He only looks away from Evan’s eyes for only a moment. “What’ve… what’ve you been up to? Y’know, how’s... college, and stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s taken aback by the way he speaks. It’s the way Connor would speak to him right before it all ended; soft and kind and gravelly, like his words were only for Evan to hear. </p><p> </p><p>It feels like his heart breaks and pieces back together all at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>College</em>,” Evan spits out, because he can’t be normal actually ever and it’s been more than a couple of seconds since Connor’s asked him a question. “Um. College. I’m not… I’m taking a year off, you know, um. To save up some money. I might take another year too, because… because, like. I dunno— capitalism?”</p><p> </p><p>For fuck’s sake. </p><p> </p><p><em>Capitalism</em>. </p><p> </p><p>That makes Connor smile. He folds his hands in front of him and looks down, letting out a nervous laugh and shaking his head. “Fuck. I forgot how funny you are.”</p><p> </p><p>They fall quiet. </p><p> </p><p>And it seems like they both remember at the same time, like both of their brains go <em>oh yeah, it ended like </em>that. </p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Connor trails off, like he’s searching for the right words. </p><p> </p><p>Evan couldn’t be any help. He doesn’t know what to say either. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, their waitress comes by with their drink orders, and Evan had been about fifteen minutes early and Connor comes to this place more than Evan had realized because they both get their food orders in right away. </p><p> </p><p>And then it’s quiet again. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not in college either,” Connor pipes up after a second, smiling bitterly down at the ring he’s twisting around his finger. “I, um… I’m pretty much on my own now, so. Y’know. Long story, but, uh. Capitalism.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Evan says, “Cool.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor meets his eyes. Quirks a brow.</p><p> </p><p>“Not, like— not like cool as in cool that you’re not in college, and like, that you’re struggling with money— not— I meant, like, cool as in it’s cool that someone else, like. That someone else is also… also not in college. That’s what I meant.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor grins at him. His eyes flick across Evan’s face, and his dimple pops out as he tries to hold back his smile.</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s sweating. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, because, like… like, everyone… everyone just goes straight to college because— because that’s what they think they have to do, you know? So it’s nice that someone can relate.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor purses his lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan breathes a little laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool,” Connor agrees, resting his chin on his palm. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Evan’s face, just looks at him not unlike how Evan’s looking at him, taking in the slightly less puffy bags under his eyes and how his nose is just a titch crooked, right at the end. </p><p> </p><p>The waitress brings them their drinks, but Evan barely notices. </p><p> </p><p>“How, um… how are things? Being on your own, and stuff?” He asks, and he’s not sure if his mouth suddenly dries up because he’s been brought a drink or if it’s the fact that Connor licks his lips before he talks. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s… I don’t even know. It’s good, because I can actually breathe without someone yelling at me for it, but… I dunno. I kinda miss them, y’know? Now that I’m not forced to be around them all the time. ‘S weird.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor stirs around his ice cubes with his straw.</p><p> </p><p>“Not enough to even consider moving back into that hell hole, but… y’know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I totally understand that,” Evan replies, and Connor’s eyes brighten. Evan’s confidence is growing now that they’re actually talking, and he tells his anxiety to fuck right off as he continues. “Like… I used to hate spending time with my mom because it seemed like she asked me these questions about my future just to… I don’t know, to make me uncomfortable? I don’t know. I never wanted to be around her, but now I just…”</p><p> </p><p>“You feel like you need to make up for lost time?” Connor suggests, looking up at Evan through his lashes. </p><p> </p><p>Spot on, as usual. Evan feels a little ball of warmth in the center of his chest. They’ve still got that psychic connection after all. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, exactly. Like… I could be so mean to her sometimes. Just… just awful. I just… I want her to know that I didn’t mean it and that I— that I love her, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor hums, nodding. </p><p> </p><p>“How is she?” He asks. “Heidi. She doing okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan blinks. Connor remembers her <em>name</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>, um. Yeah. <em>Yeah</em>, she’s good. She’s almost finished with her paralegal stuff, so she won’t be as busy, which… it’s gonna be a big weight off of her shoulders.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, that’s awesome. My dad’s a lawyer. Maybe they’ll cross paths someday.”</p><p> </p><p><em>I know he’s a lawyer</em>, Evan wants to say, but he doesn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunate for her if they do,” Connor adds, and Evan laughs. </p><p> </p><p>The silence that follows isn’t as awkward this time. Evan feels comfortable; Connor’s not out to get him most likely, and when he goes to the bathroom he can text Jared and tell him to chill because everything’s going fine. It’s going good, actually. Great. A hell of a lot better than Evan had expected. </p><p> </p><p>They get their food and talk some more, mostly small talk about what they’ve been up to and how their parents are doing and stupid stuff like that. Evan talks about his stupid job, and how it’s stupid that a fucking Pottery Barn could be so damn strict about their dress code, and Connor talks about his stupid factory job that he’s working just to keep himself afloat. It’s good. Connor seems… Connor seems like he’s good. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s really fucking glad that Connor’s good. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, um…” Connor says after he takes a bite, setting down his fork. “So, like… can I say something?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s stomach drops.</p><p> </p><p>And it must be written on his face, because Connor quickly tacks on a “It’s nothing bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan lets out the breath he was holding. “Okay. Yeah. Um. Go— go for it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Connor exhales, taking a breath in. He hesitates for a second, poking around at his burrito. “So, like… obviously... things didn’t end the way we wanted them to.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan stops. He takes a sip of water to hide the fact that he’s suddenly stopped breathing. This had to come up eventually. “Yeah,” He croaks, avoiding Connor’s eyes. He’s not sure he can say anything else. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Connor echoes him. “So, like. I’m really... <em>sorry</em> about… about how that all went down. And how I acted afterwards. And… thank you for, like… actually messaging me back. And agreeing to meet me. Because, like… I’ve been thinking about… y’know, <em>that</em> a lot lately, and how fucking shitty I was to you, so. Yeah. I’m really, <em>really</em> fucking sorry. You should hate me. I don’t blame you if you do.” </p><p> </p><p>Connor’s ears are red by the time he’s done talking. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s cheeks are the same. </p><p> </p><p>But he’s been waiting for this conversation for years. It’s ripping open old, scarred wounds, and it’s weird and awkward and scary and Evan’s instincts are telling him to run, to get out of there, because there’s a chance this conversation could hurt him, but at the same time, he’s calm.</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s done running. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s…” Evan trails off, because <em>it’s not fine, Evan</em>. “It’s... in the past. We were… you were fifteen, you were depressed and angry and… and—“</p><p> </p><p>“And I was fucking awful,” Connor cuts him off, looking down angrily at his hands. Then he quickly looks up. “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to cut you off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh—“ Evan blinks a couple of times. “That’s— it’s okay. You go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>, it’s fine. What were you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>Evan takes a second to collect his thoughts again. “I… I barely even think about it, you know?” Evan lies. “We were kids. Like, actual children. It was, like… four years ago. And we were both… we were both going through some rough shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor opens his mouth but then closes it with a huff, like he’s angry at himself. Evan raises his eyebrows, but Connor motions for him to continue. </p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t, like… make it okay, what happened,” Evan says, and Connor nods like Evan’s just read his mind. “But, like… I didn’t tell you anything that was going on in my head at the time. I was… I was a mess. I was freaking out practically all the time at that age because… y’know, because…”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s listening. He’s got his hands folded together and pulled up to his mouth, giving Evan all of his attention. Evan could tell him everything, right here, right now. </p><p> </p><p>Connor would hear him. </p><p> </p><p>“Because, like… obviously… obviously we matched on Tinder, so, um…”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s face scrunches up in amused confusion and he narrows his eyes at Evan as if to say,<em> um, yeah?</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Uh</em>,” Evan manages to say, shaking his head. “Like. Like, the fact that you even came up on my Tinder means that, um. You know.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan motions vaguely with his hands, but Connor just looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know if he can even say it. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I?” Connor asks, and Evan quickly deflates and replies, “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s weird how Connor knows just what to do, even now. </p><p> </p><p>“Cool,” Connor says. “Uh… yeah, same. Like… like, with boys. <em>Guys</em>. Obviously. So...”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a long, drawn-out awkward silence where Connor’s words hang in the air above them like a piano swinging above them, held to the ceiling by a single string. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Evan says softly. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, um…” Connor starts, closing his eyes tight. “I guess… I guess I pushed you away because, like… I dunno. I thought you’d hate me, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s silent. </p><p> </p><p>This doesn’t add up. </p><p> </p><p>Connor is the one who hates him. Well, <em>hated</em>, Evan guesses. </p><p> </p><p>He hopes. </p><p> </p><p>And then Connor sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean it,” He spits out, frustrated, reaching up behind him to pull his hair out of the little bun to let it hang free around his face. He rakes a hand through it easily and it flops right back down where it was before. “I didn’t— <em>fuck</em>, I didn’t mean any of it. I just… every day I would think about how I was hiding this giant fucking secret from you and I convinced myself that if you found out, if I told you, that you’d… I dunno. Leave. So I… made you leave. Before you could.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t’ve,” Evan says without a moment’s hesitation. He doesn’t look up at Connor. </p><p> </p><p>Connor doesn’t say a word. </p><p> </p><p>When Evan chances a glance up at him, he’s got one hand tangled in his hair, propping up his head. Evan watches as Connor’s gaze follows a bead of water sliding down the side of the glass in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>And then Connor’s looking at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Connor sighs, bringing both hands up to his face. “I know I fucked it all up, okay? But, like…”</p><p> </p><p>Connor shakes his head. </p><p> </p><p>And then his hands drop down to the table, bottom lip between his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve… fucking missed you,” Connor breathes out, looking up at Evan through his lashes. </p><p> </p><p>And. </p><p> </p><p>There are so many things Evan could say. So many thoughts flickering through the forefront of his mind like a projector changing slides so fast that none of the text is readable. </p><p> </p><p>So many that he doesn’t dare open his mouth for fear that one of them might spew out at random. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I miss you so much it kills me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You fucked me up. You fucked up my life. Made me feel worthless. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How do I know you’re even telling me the truth?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Do people really change? Really?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Did you love me like I loved you?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Like I still kind of do? No matter how much it hurts me?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Listen—“ Connor starts, letting out a breath as if he changed his mind a second before speaking. “I don’t need you to forgive me, because some of that shit is unforgivable, alright, and I <em>know</em> I’m a piece of shit—“</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Stop it,</em>” Evan says suddenly, “Please. Just.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor stops.  </p><p> </p><p>“Just.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s studying him again. His gaze wanders aimlessly around Evan’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we…”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s not sure what he’s proposing; not at first. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we just. Like…”</p><p> </p><p>He’s not even sure what he wants. </p><p> </p><p>He just knows that he <em>wants</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He wants… them. He wants them to be okay. To be what they used to be. And that’s probably not possible, not anymore, but… maybe they could be something better this time. Even if it’s not what Evan wishes it could be. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe Evan could have a friend again. </p><p> </p><p>A friend besides just Jared, at least. Jared’s practically his brother anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He’s wary, though. Because there’s still a part of him that isn’t completely healed, not all the way. Numb, inflamed scar tissue that hasn’t had the time to scab over completely yet. Easy to open back up. </p><p> </p><p>There’s one thing that’s certain though, despite everything. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s sure as hell not going to let this go again. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we... start over?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor blinks and all the stoniness is gone from his eyes. All of a sudden he’s a pre-teen again, letting down his walls and welcoming Evan in with open arms, and the crease between his brows softens, and Evan’s never seen anything better. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. We can do that.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a hopeful pause. Connor glances between Evan’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>And then the dimple at the corner of Connor’s mouth is on show and he’s looking down at his hands, smiling bashfully and letting his hair fall in his face again. </p><p> </p><p>Evan’s not sure why he feels a bubble of laughter at the base of his throat, but then he’s giggling and Connor lets out a happy breath through his nose and everything feels… it feels okay. </p><p> </p><p>It feels like a new beginning. </p><p> </p><p>“So, um…” Evan starts, biting back a mischievous smile. “Do you wanna come to my birthday party?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s eyes go wide, boring right into Evan’s. </p><p> </p><p>And Connor lets out this sharp, high-pitched laugh, and it brings a smile to Evan’s face immediately. People look at them, but Evan doesn’t care. Connor slaps a hand over his mouth and then Evan’s snickering, watching as a calm settles over both of them and then Connor just sits back and crosses his arms with this dopey, shocked look on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I… I did not expect that,” Connor laughs. “Did you forget when your birthday was or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Connor remembers. </p><p> </p><p>And Connor’s beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>There’s this pretty smile playing on his lips, subtle and soft and a little lopsided, and the force that it’s taking to keep his teeth from showing makes his eyes narrow with effort. </p><p> </p><p>It’s incredibly endearing. </p><p> </p><p>“I— I mean, I just thought… I thought I’d give you the invite early, you know? We’re both… adults now, right? I figured you might need to write it down on your calendar.”</p><p> </p><p>Evan’s pretty sure Connor can feel the heat of his cheeks radiating from across the table that sits between them, because he’s almost absolutely certain that his joke has fallen flat, or that it’s stupid, or that he’s forgotten how to do this completely. </p><p> </p><p>“Much appreciated,” Connor smiles. He puts on an exaggerated thinking face. “Let’s see… seven months in advance means that the probability of me actually being able to take a night off for once is about…” He purses his lips. “At the most?... One to two percent. And that’s being generous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, great,” Evan says, feigning enthusiasm. A giggle escapes him without his permission. “God, being an adult is… uh…”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure is,” Connor says with a sarcastically cheery lilt to his voice. </p><p> </p><p>They both sigh at the same time, almost done exactly in the same way, and Connor does that breath-laugh again and Evan feels. </p><p> </p><p>Evan just… he <em>feels</em>. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know where this is gonna go, but frankly, he doesn’t much care. All that matters is existing in this moment, the one they’re sharing, and that for once, things are looking up between the two of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, um…” Evan begins, halting awkwardly. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Connor’s eyes are on his in an instant, playful and happy and hesitant and <em>hopeful</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Evan hesitates. </p><p> </p><p>He takes a breath. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you too.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>lmk what u guys think!!<br/>anyone want an epilogue?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. three years out of high school</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evan wakes up the morning of his 21st birthday in someone else’s bed. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>UMMMMM cecropia's updating who am i??? hello????<br/>i'll be honest yall, idk how i feel about this chapter. i think it's alright maybe possibly...? but i wanted to make it good so hopefully 6k with some reconciliation will suffice?</p><p>PLSPLSPLS let me know what u think as this is the epilogue/last chapter i'll be writing for this fic!! i'd love to know how y'all feel about all of this!!! and if there are any other fics i've left unfinished that you'd like me to work on??</p><p>TW for implied sexual content, pillow talk kinda stuff, and like... a bit of underage drinking?  </p><p>enjoy &amp; thank u for reading!!</p><p> </p><p>come yell at me about DEH on tumblr: c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan wakes up the morning of his 21st birthday in someone else’s bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a second for his groggy brain to catch up, but as he takes that first morning deep breath and exhales all the breath from his lungs, someone shifts behind him and blunt nails dig softly into the space right below his ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He relaxes a bit when he hears the soft sigh of none other than Connor Murphy right against the back of his neck, and he tries to relax a little more because he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> comfortable, but, like…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan slept over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s morning. Soft light is shining in through Connor’s black-out curtains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan hadn’t meant to sleep over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sleeping over is, like… something </span>
  <em>
    <span>couples</span>
  </em>
  <span> do. And Evan and Connor aren’t exactly a couple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. They do pretty much everything a couple usually does, to be perfectly fair. And just thinking about that makes Evan’s cheeks go red and a warm weight settles low in his stomach and Evan </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t think about that right now, thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not first thing in the morning when he’s trapped in a Connor Murphy Death Grip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they haven’t exactly put a label on it, is the thing. Evan’s afraid to let someone in again, and especially when that someone is Connor, if he’s being honest with himself. They’ve made a ton of progress with fixing things and learning to trust each other, and Connor’s not even remotely the same person that he used to be, and things are </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s still got walls up. It would be weird for him </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s scared.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there’s a part of him that just wants to dive in head-first and immerse himself in Connor and all of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, everything he’s wanted since he was a teenager. He tries to get that part of him to shut the fuck up, to leave him the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> because it creeps up on him when he and Connor are doing, like, completely ordinary things. Like when they watch a movie on Connor’s couch and he throws his legs across Evan’s lap, and when he scooches closer and wraps his arms around Evan’s torso, and when they leave the movie playing in the background because they have More Pressing Matters to attend to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alright, okay. So it’s basically all the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he’s constantly thinking about what it would be like if they put a label on it? On this thing they have? It doesn’t change anything. And it definitely doesn’t change how Connor feels about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor takes a sudden deep breath in, sighing noisily against Evan’s shoulder. He can feel it when Connor noses against him, his breath evening out again as his grip on Evan’s stomach loosens the tiniest bit. And Evan scrunches up his nose in both disgust and adoration when he feels Connor’s drool on the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, Evan loves him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dammit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gotta</span>
  </em>
  <span> get up. He wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place, and now he’s laying in Connor’s bed after staying the night and he’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantasizing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him and that’s just— it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is what it is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He starts with his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan slides his arm out from underneath him, and he doesn’t even jostle Connor that much, but of course, he immediately notices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm</span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor groans, “C’mback.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan lets a soft happy sigh out through his nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor settles against Evan’s back again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, fuck,” Connor mumbles, pawing at Evan’s skin. “Drooled on you. M’sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan tries to laugh, but he’s so high-strung about this casual display of affection that it comes out strained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” He tries to say normally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘S wrong?” Connor asks, tucking his chin over Evan’s shoulder. His hands slide up Evan’s stomach just a bit, and Evan can’t help but think that he wants them to slide </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which he should </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be thinking about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor presses his lips to the side of Evan’s neck. Laughs a little, low and wicked in Evan’s ear. Evan’s head is spinning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s door swings open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Evan and Connor jolt immediately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking—</span>
  </em>
  <span> why the hell did I give you a key?” Connor complains right into Evan’s ear, almost fully awake now, and Zoe rolls her eyes. Evan can feel Connor melting against his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t answering your phone. We have shit to do today, in case you forgot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You broke into my </span>
  <em>
    <span>house</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor groans, letting his forehead thud against Evan’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Evan,” Zoe smiles in his direction.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan blinks. “Hey.” Connor’s fingers press gently into his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes in a shaky breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ten more minutes,” Connor mumbles. “Evan’s tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday,” Zoe says to him, effectively blocking out whatever her brother has to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan assumes it comes with practice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um— yeah, thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twenty, right?” Zoe winks. She’s almost as awkward as her brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um— no, it’s—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no, not fair,” Connor says suddenly, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was supposed to say that first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ew, put a shirt on,” Zoe sneers. Connor looks down, offended. “Not my fault you didn’t say it fast enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>would’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you wouldn’t’ve decided to </span>
  <em>
    <span>burgle</span>
  </em>
  <span> me at </span>
  <em>
    <span>the-crack-of-Satan’s-ass</span>
  </em>
  <span> AM,” Connor quips. He pushes a stray hair behind his ear and Evan bites his lip to keep in his laughter. “That’s not what that key was intended for, idiot. What time is it anyway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that even a word?” Zoe asks, leaning her hip against the door frame. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Burgle</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duh,” Connor replies maturely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoe narrows her eyes. “I dunno—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span> already so Evan and I can get dressed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zoe snickers. “I guess. Everybody’s already in the car, so I’d hurry the fuck up if I were you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then she slams the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then the front one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Evan and Connor are alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Connor breathes a laugh. “This is… admittedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way I wanted to wake you up this morning. Should’ve set an alarm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s—“ Evan chuckles to cover up the way he chokes on his spit. “It’s fine, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignores the hot pang of want deep in his gut, followed by the way his stomach suddenly feels empty but full of shame at the same time because— because. Zoe was right, Connor should put a fucking shirt on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>distracting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘S a goddamn shame, is all,” Connor rolls his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He crosses the room to his dresser, opening it up and peering inside. “Later, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Evan says stiffly. He winds his fists into Connor’s comforter. And Evan’s tone must catch Connor’s attention, because he hasn’t even pulled anything out of the drawer but he turns around and cocks an eyebrow. Evan looks anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Connor standing there in his fucking underwear. “Sorry, I— I didn’t mean to sleep over. I must’ve— I dunno, I must’ve fallen asleep after— um.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s grinning at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re stupid,” Connor laughs, turning back around. “I was kind of banking on that, if I’m being honest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan just nods. He catches Connor’s eye in the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Connor crosses the room again, coming to sit next to Evan on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Evan,” Connor says softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, hi,” Evan chokes out because he’s Evan and conversations have never really been his forte. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tilts his head down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re being weird,” Connor says just as softly, rough and gravelly and somehow lilting at the same time. He nudges Evan’s arm, dipping his head to see Evan better. “Stop being weird.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m… sorry, I’m sorry,” Evan apologizes all at once, and Connor just shakes his head. “I’m—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” He says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, c’mon. What’s going on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask it in the form of a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just— I don’t want you to think that I’m, like— that since I stayed over without asking that I’m assuming, like— I don’t want you to think I’m trying to, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>imply</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor looks confused. Evan doesn’t blame him. He’s not even sure what the fuck he’s talking about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Imply what?” Connor asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan sighs, dropping his head in his hands. “I dunno, like. That we’re… like. That we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan feels sick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor isn’t saying anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So after a minute of worried silence, Evan looks up at him. He’s wearing the most bewildered expression Evan’s ever seen, glancing between Evan’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s heart drops to his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we?” Connor asks after a second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan stops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t we?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are</span>
  </em>
  <span> we?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asks, breathless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor blinks at him, shakes his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re serious. You’re— oh my god. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud honk from outside brings their attention to the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus—“ Connor runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, okay— let's talk about this in the car, okay?” He says, pushing off the bed. “C’mon, get some pants on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan stands there for a second as Connor tugs on some jeans, and after a moment of staring into space, he does too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s play truth or dare,” Connor slurs, giving Evan a wide grin. “Like the old days.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan grins right back. His head is swimming, and he feels like he’s been blinking for much longer than what is necessary, but he doesn’t really care all that much. “Okay,” He agrees. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ask me,” Connor demands, leaning forward over his crossed legs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, um…” Evan thinks for a second. It probably takes him more than a second, because for a second he forgets what he’s supposed to be thinking about. “Okay, truth or dare.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Truth,” Connor answers immediately, laughing. Evan doesn’t know what he’s laughing about, but he ends up laughing along anyway because Connor’s laugh is contagious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And because he’s kinda drunk. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And because Connor’s kinda hot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And nice. And lovely. And just… generally The Greatest. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, um…” Evan trails off. The only thing he can really focus on is the way Connor keeps scooting slightly closer, and how he keeps licking his lips, and how his throat looks when he tilts his head back to take a drink. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span>. “Truth,” Evan says, because it feels right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor laughs. “No, no— ask </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span> a truth, dumbass.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,” Evan giggles, covering up his mouth. “Shit. Okay. Um. What’s. What’s your favorite color?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor tilts his head back and groans. “</span>
  </em>
  <span>Ugh</span>
  <em>
    <span>, you’re so lame. ‘S purple.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I couldn’t think of anything, shut up,” Evan whines, “Purple’s good. Ask me now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor smiles. Evan likes how he can see Connor’s pointy canines when he smiles with his teeth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wanna dare you,” Connor says, leaning forward. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan couldn’t be happier to oblige. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” Evan agrees, blinking away the stars twinkling behind his eyes. It doesn’t really work. “Yeah. Dare me. Do your— do your worst.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kiss me,” Connor says immediately, almost overlapping with Evan’s words. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s not a dare,” Evan’s stupid drunk brain says. Then he catches up, blinks, and Connor’s face is only an inch from his own. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>dare</span>
  <em>
    <span> you to... fuckin’ kiss me already,” Connor smiles, tilting his chin in Evan’s direction, and, like... how’s Evan supposed to turn that down? “Been waiting for, like… fuckin’ forever. An’ I dared you, so.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor drags blunt nails softly down the side of Evan’s arm. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a moment of sobriety. Just a second— barely even that— when Evan realizes what’s about to happen. And when he remembers who they both are and what they’ve been through, together then apart and now together again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And how they could be together in a different way, now. If they wanted to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan wants to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan thinks he wants to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then he catches sight of Connor’s lips again. They’re right there. Right in front of him. Slightly parted and pink and Connor’s looking at Evan and then at his mouth, and like, he doesn’t remember the moments leading up to it because then he’s kissing Connor, he’s actually kissing Connor, and they sort of miss each other’s mouths at first but after a couple seconds of silently determining who’s tilting their head which way, it’s. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. It may be because he’s drunk but the feeling of Connor’s lips against his own is better than the numb feeling the alcohol gave him— in fact, it’s like Tennessee whiskey; it burns and scorches and sets a fire right in the center of Evan’s chest. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor snakes his arms around Evan’s neck, combing through the hair at the back of his head and using the entire giant width of his palm to keep Evan close. And apparently Evan’s dignity has flown out the window because he’s rising up on his knees, running his hands along Connor’s shoulders and his neck and his chest and just everywhere that he can physically touch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then Connor takes in a choked little breath. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drunk Evan takes that as a good sign, leaning closer and kissing Connor with more enthusiasm, but—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘M sorry,” Connor gasps, hiccuping and leaning away. “Shoulda been like this. ‘M so sorry, Evan.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” Evan asks, but then Connor’s arms are around him and his face is pressed to Evan’s neck. Evan’s arms lag behind what his brain is telling him to do, but eventually he’s got his arms looped around Connor’s back, holding him close. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry,” Connor breathes, choking on his next breath in. “I’m so drunk, I’m sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay,” Evan says, holding Connor maybe probably way too hard although he has no idea what Connor’s apologizing for. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shoulda been like this,” Connor says again, “Always. I shoulda—“ He hiccups. “I shoulda just— when we were kids, I. I fucked it all up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” Evan says, hands firm on Connor’s back. “Okay. ‘S okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, Evan,” Connor says again, grappling onto Evan wherever he can reach. He feels Connor’s nails catching on his t-shirt as he drags them down, taking a shaking breath in. “Evan, I’m so sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay. It’s okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan’s not sure how long it takes, but after a while, Connor’s breathing slows. Evan’s eyelids droop. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He has a feeling he’ll remember this in the morning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s first birthday party with Connor since they were kids was relatively tame. They played some board games, ate dinner at a Denny’s, and passed out on Evan’s couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn’t, like. Make out. They weren’t there yet. It was back when everything was simple, when Connor and Evan were friends again and when Evan was still pushing down his old feelings for Connor. The usual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s second, however. This one is </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last one didn’t involve Jared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s taken Jared a while to warm up to Connor. And if ‘warm up’ is on a scale from cold to hot, Evan’s not even sure if Jared would be room temp. He’s like when you accidentally turn the water just a little bit too cold when you shower. Just enough to give you a quick shiver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s better than what he used to be, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So it’s kind of a surprise that Jared agreed to be in the same car as Connor in general, let alone for an actual hour as Zoe drives them to God knows where. It’s mostly quiet, some indie pop music playing softly on the radio along with the quiet chatter of Zoe and Alana in the front seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, aside from meeting Zoe through a tutoring program shortly after Connor’s first attempt in high school, Alana went to school with all of them. Evan feels awful for not remembering her, even though he pretends he does, and one glance at Connor tells him that Connor doesn’t, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But to be fair, Evan did his best to forget mostly everything that happened in high school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mostly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And since Jared had decided very vehemently to sit between Connor and Evan in the backseat, ever-so-protective, Evan’s head has been whirling with questions. Like— has Connor been under the impression that they’ve been dating this whole time? Should Evan have been treating Connor like a boyfriend, or whatever? And, like— is that what Connor wants? Why hasn’t he referred to Evan as, like… his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then? Does he want to keep them a secret?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s confused. He’s happy, sort of, because the signs point to Connor wanting… </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him, but. A part of him, that stupid part that makes him doubt everything he knows— that part is screaming at him that everything is about to go wrong. That something’s gotta break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because why </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, Evan,” Zoe pipes up from the front seat, looking at him through the rear view. “You excited to have your very first </span>
  <em>
    <span>legal</span>
  </em>
  <span> drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that where we’re going?” Evan asks a bit sulkily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell of a drive just to go to a bar,” Jared mumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, dummy. Connor says bars probably wouldn’t really be your thing anyway,” Zoe chirps, sending Connor a proud smile in the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That one earns a scoff from Jared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan glances at Connor. His mouth is all pinched up and he’s sending her a death glare right back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh— probably not,” Evan laughs nervously, “They’re, like… kinda loud. Lots of drunk people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lots of drunk people,” Zoe agrees. “There’ll only be five drunk people where we’re going, so thank god for that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all grow quiet eventually. Evan fights the urge to text Connor, because he’s probably got the exact same thoughts running through his head, and Evan flips his phone around so much in his hands that Jared elbows him in the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor stares out the window for most of the drive, hand glued to his knee, knuckles white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Zoe starts up a steep gravel path, rocks crunching under the tires, Evan’s starting to speculate where they’re headed. They pass through the tallest of trees, and eventually they end up in the driveway of the most breathtaking log cabin Evan’s ever seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fancy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like— it’s not really made of logs, but it’s just made to </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it is, which means it probably has working AC and heat. And it’s big enough to house a small family, which seems perfect for their little group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, um. Surprise,” Connor says meekly once they arrive, nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan sighs in disbelief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>glamping</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jared adds before Evan can even say anything. And he’s kinda glad too, because everyone was starting to stare at him, waiting for his reaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, for the last time, it’s not fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>glamping</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor says, rolling his eyes and opening his door. “Jesus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s totally glamping,” Jared whispers to Evan, snickering as he climbs out of the car after Connor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I heard that,” Connor mumbles as he pops the trunk. Evan hadn't even noticed— they’ve got blankets and a cooler and everything you’d need to camp all right there in Zoe’s trunk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan feels… weird. It’s not bad, just… a foreign feeling. He’s surrounded by these people who he knows to varying degrees— one like a brother, one who he knows almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> well, one that he knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> and one who’s almost completely new to him— and yet he feels almost, like… loved. They’re all here to celebrate the fact that he’s alive, and, like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s… sort of happy to be so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which. Which is new. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor carries in the cooler. Evan walks beside him with the backpack Connor had forced him to take on one shoulder and Connor’s on the other. Their arms bump together every once and a while as they make their way into the cabin, and Connor glances over and gives him a shy smile. For some reason it feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done in that moment— just the brush of Connor’s arm on Evan’s, and Connor’s cheeks dusted with pink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, losers,” Zoe announces as she drops her bags in the doorway. Evan looks around in dazed wonder, as does everyone else. “It’s time to party.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You remember Aaron Dunn from elementary school?” Connor asks, mumbled against Evan’s forehead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Name sounds familiar,” Evan murmurs. “What’s he look like?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor hums a laugh. Evan feels it against his lips, still tingling. “Like a little bitch. ‘Member that time in fifth grade? In the lunch line?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course Evan remembers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck,” He breathes, laughing softly. “I remember him. Unfortunately. Isn’t he, like, in the army now or something?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mmm-hmm.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s quiet. Connor’s breath is soft against Evan’s skin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What made you think of that… that douchebag?” Evan laughs, pulling slightly back to look Connor in the eyes. God, he looks… he looks perfect, Evan thinks, even though he’s got bags under his eyes and his lips are swollen and his hair is a mess of tangled, sweaty curls. He looks like </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan’s almost 99% sure that he might possibly be in love with him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably. Most likely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wanna hear a funny story?” Connor asks him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Always,” Evan replies. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So… our families were friends,” Connor starts, rolling onto his back. Evan misses his warmth. He’s wearing a crooked smile as he talks, mostly with his hands. “More like… frenemies, I guess. Whatever. His parents knew my parents, and when we were younger they’d try to get us together for play dates, or whatever.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” Evan says. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. So when we were really young they kind of forced us to hang out, right? This was like… fourth or fifth grade. One of the last times they successfully got us to be in the same room as each other, for obvious reasons.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can imagine that was, um…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was weird,” Connor says. “Our parents all went outside to go, like, smoke or something, I don’t remember. And we were supposed to watch Zoe. And at this point, Aaron and I sort of hated each other, and every time we were alone he’d do some dumb shit to me and then pretend like he never did it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sounds like him,” Evan says. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yep. So they went outside for whatever reason, and Zoe wandered off somewhere, and it was just me and Aaron. And he pushed me, or something, and I remember him calling me a fag, and then out of fucking nowhere— he kissed me. Like, full-on. Right on the mouth.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He… wait,” Evan starts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait… </span>
  </em>
  <span>what</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He kissed you? Holy shit,” Evan laughs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. I was like… however the fuck old you are in fifth-slash-fourth grade, and Aaron kissed me, and then I remember, like… stopping for a second. And then I… kissed him back.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy </span>
  </em>
  <span>shit</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” Evan says again. “I never knew this. Why did I never know this?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hold on, it gets better. So our parents came back in, and Larry was the first one, and Aaron pushed me off of him and yelled to his parents that </span>
  </em>
  <span>I</span>
  <em>
    <span> kissed </span>
  </em>
  <span>him</span>
  <em>
    <span>. And I was sent upstairs, and there was some yelling, and then… and then I pretty much never saw him again. Except in the lunch line.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my god,” Evan breathes, turning his head in Connor’s direction. “Connor, that’s… </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuck</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It gets worse,” Connor laughs. “I told my mom I thought I liked boys later on that year. We hadn’t talked about it besides the fact that I was grounded for a little bit after the Aaron thing. Anyway, I told her, and then she told my dad, and my dad made me cut my hair off and signed me up for baseball. He said the hair thing was because you can’t play baseball with long hair, but… y’know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> why you were in baseball?” Evan asks, incredulous. Connor turns and looks at him, pressing his lips together, nodding. “That’s fucked up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. That's the early 2000s for you. Didn’t last long though, did it?” Connor asks. And then he stops, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on his chest. “The baseball thing, not the gay thing.” He looks Evan up and down. “Obviously.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan snorts, shoving at his shoulder. “Shut up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Connor hums, proud, turning back toward Evan and letting his gaze roam around Evan’s face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan wants to kiss him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan thinks about all the times he used to think about kissing Connor. He thinks about all the pain, and the longing, and he decides that as long as he’s able to kiss Connor, now that he actually can, he’s gonna fucking do it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So he does. He kisses Connor like his life depends on it, like Connor’s the only thing he needs to fill his lungs, like the world’s ending, like any minute Connor could decide that they’re not doing this thing they’re doing anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which is frighteningly possible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Evan falters for a second, letting Connor take the lead in case this totally isn’t what he wants, and then kisses him harder. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re so much better than Aaron,” Connor laughs against his mouth, and Evan laughs with him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s dad is an alcoholic. He always has been, and Evan supposes he always will be. When he was little and his parents were still together, that’s what they’d fight about most. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so Zoe was wrong about the fact that there would be five drunk people in the cabin tonight, because honestly, Evan doesn’t really want that. Not right now, at least. The few times he has gotten drunk have always ended badly, and he hates the feeling of not knowing where he is or what he’s doing and not having control of his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there’s always that niggling little thought at the back of his mind telling him that if he keeps this up, he’ll be just like his dad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he doesn’t drink. Well— he has one of Jared’s shitty beers, and it’s lukewarm because </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘that’s how they’re supposed to be drunk, Evan, they do it that way in Germany</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ or whatever, and he doesn’t even finish it because he just can’t stomach it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan decides then and there that he hates beer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t drink either. Jared’s drunk ass asks about it and mentions something about whisky-dick because of course he does, and Connor doesn’t deny it, but Evan’s pretty sure that Connor just doesn’t want Evan to be the only one who’s relatively sober. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is pretty fucking cute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At some point, Alana and Zoe disappear into their shared room that they share because they’re ‘both girls’— but based on the way Alana had averted her eyes when asked about it, Evan’s not so sure. Jared’s passed out on the couch before the two girls even make it to their room, and Connor and Evan decide to retire into theirs when Jared starts snoring </span>
  <em>
    <span>like a goddamn lawn mower</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to quote Connor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s weird, the energy between them as they shut the door behind them. Their room is pretty small, just a bed and a dresser and a fancy chair, and Evan sits on the side of the bed with flushed cheeks despite only having half a beer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not the beer. He knows that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor smiles awkwardly at him from the doorway, making his way to the bed and flopping down beside Evan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs, soft and pretty, and. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that I don’t want to date you,” Evan blurts out suddenly, his back to Connor. And once he starts, he can’t seem to stop. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. I just— the only problem is that, like, I didn’t know if that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted? Because we haven’t really— we haven’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it and I didn’t know if that’s just because you’re comfortable with what we’ve been doing or if you just don’t even want it in general with me, you just want— and—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes a breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A warm hand lands gently on the center of his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan takes another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk about it, then,” Connor says softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Evan asks, craning his neck to see behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s on his side, one arm folded underneath his head. He’s rubbing slow circles on Evan’s back, and his eyes are gentle and light. He’s searching Evan’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s… y’know. Let’s talk about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Evan says simply, turning back around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one says anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Connor says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand stills on Evan’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna… it’s kinda hot in here. Do you wanna go sit out on the porch for a sec?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing has ever sounded better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air is crisp and cold, bearable when the wind isn’t blowing but biting at his skin when it does. And Evan’s glad Connor packed an extra hoodie, because Evan has one with him, he does, but he always grabs Connor’s anyway. They’re baggier and more worn and they always smell like him, laced through and through with the smell of old smoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor still smokes, but he’s been trying to stop. Evan’s pleasantly surprised when Connor doesn’t bring a lighter outside with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sit next to each other on the front steps. The porch light is warm and sends a pool of light across the grass and sidewalk, and Evan watches as the blades of grass are blown gently by the wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re stupid,” Connor mumbles, slightly muffled. He’s got his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting on his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan turns and blinks at him. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just— you’re so stupid, Evan. Like—” He turns to him, half-smiling. “And— and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid. We’re both fucking stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t even sound like a word anymore,” Evan says unhelpfully, watching an ant crawl across the cement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs, threading his fingers through his hair. His arm blocks Evan’s view of his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well— </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid for not making it more clear that I’m stupid fucking in love with you, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupid for not </span>
  <em>
    <span>realizing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I’m stupid fucking in love with you. Alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor’s more tense than Evan’s seen him in a while. His leg bounces up and down relentlessly as Evan stares at him, and he lets out a harsh breath as he waits for Evan’s response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Evan says quietly, because Connor’s absolutely correct, and he’s an idiot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor turns around, confusion written all over his face, a hint of amusement in those bright eyes. Evan cringes at his own stupidity. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I just fuckin’— I confessed my love for you and—?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no hesitation. There’s no question, there’s no answer; there’s nothing but Evan and Connor and the crickets and the wind blowing through the trees and Connor’s mouth on his. And they’ve kissed before, sure, but— there’s nothing holding him back this time. There’s nothing keeping him from tugging Connor closer by the material of his sweatshirt hood, or from cradling Connor’s face in his hands, or from giggling like a stupid kid against Connor’s lips because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor loves him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are no walls. No doubts, no unanswered questions, no guessing. It’s just them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s sure they’ll come back, the doubts. He’s got anxiety for fuck’s sake, they always come back. But for right now, all he knows is that Connor loves him and he loves him right the fuck back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we, like—?” Connor pulls back with a breathless laugh. He presses ice-cold fingers to Evan’s neck. “I’m so cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah— shit, sorry, it’s fucking cold,” Evan laughs, bumping their foreheads together. “Let’s go inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next couple of hours consist of a lot of “holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and “Connor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and at one point Evan thinks he hears Jared getting up and going to his room but he just doesn’t give a single shit. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to give a shit because Connor has absolutely fucked his actual brains out. He’s pretty sure it fell right out of his head sometime between the part when he was leaving hickeys all over Connor’s neck and when Connor was leaving hickeys all over his hips, legs, inner thighs... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And by the time they’re finished, they’re so worn out that they don’t say a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s silent apart from both of their heavy breathing. Connor’s tucked himself up underneath Evan’s chin, both arms looped around his torso, and Evan’s pretty sure normal sex isn’t supposed to leave your skin buzzing and heart thumping for thirty minutes afterward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe birthday sex is different. Elite, somehow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’ll have to try it out on Connor in about six months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too long</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Evan thinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Connor breathes, both palms flat on Evan’s back. “I meant it, y’know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan’s foggy post-orgasm brain takes a second to catch up. “That you’d happily die between my thighs, or—?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes,” Connor laughs, low and gravelly, nuzzling against Evan’s neck, “But, uh. The other thing too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um… the part where you said my ass was like—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all of the above yes,” Connor says, breathing a laugh through his nose, “But, like. Also the fact that I’m, like. In love with you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Evan exhales back happily, “Yeah. Yeah, me too, I’m… I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> in love with you. For like, forever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘S it a competition? Who’s loved who the longest?” Connor asks, words stringing together sleepily. “Because I’d win.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan laughs, shakes his head. “No way. You don’t even wanna know how long I’ve...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sixth grade, but I never would’ve admitted it,” Connor says, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. “Maybe the end of fifth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Evan asks, leaning back to hopefully look Connor in the eyes. He just clings on, burying his face in Evan’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really,” He says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s… it was maybe, like… seventh grade for me? Eighth?” Evan speculates, settling his chin on the top of Connor’s head again. “I didn’t really, like… let myself think about it too much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor snorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking and digging his nails into Evan’s back, shaking his head. “Evan. Evan, oh my god.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we weren’t such… such fucking hormonal idiots, we could’ve…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan stops. Really lets it all sink in as Connor laughs below him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t just because you were afraid I’d judge you for being gay,” Evan realizes out loud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor stills. The energy between them quickly shifts into something more serious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Connor says softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t say a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were… getting too close,” Connor elaborates. “There was a time where… it was near the end, when we were at some park or something because I had a fight with my family and… and you were talking me through it and you hugged me and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> almost kiss me,” Evan says incredulously, “Holy shit. I thought I imagined that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You definitely did not,” Connor says. “I made you think I never even considered you a friend, so… that probably didn’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor says it with such bitterness, such malice toward who he used to be. He digs his nails into Evan’s back, fingers shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t blame him for being angry. He doesn’t blame Connor for hating that part of himself. But as they lay here, post-love confession and post-all the good times they’ve had since that time they agreed to start over… Evan’s forgiven him for it. Genuinely. He’s forgiven fifteen-year-old Connor for his awful words and actions. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to forgive him, he knows that. But Connor’s more than proven that people can and do change. If anyone can prove that, it’s Connor. He’s been nothing but good to him since their whole relationship revival. And Evan also knows that if Connor ever gives even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hint</span>
  </em>
  <span> of being the person he used to be, he’s out. Evan’s gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t see that happening. Right now, everything is… it’s not perfect. It’s far from perfect. But it’s good. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and they’re good, both of them, and Evan needs to just stop overthinking all the time and learn how to enjoy what he has right in front of him, because... because what he has right in front of him is pretty fucking incredible. Their love is resilient, and strong, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s been broken before but that doesn’t mean they didn’t find a way to piece it back together. To make it even stronger than before; layers and layers of glue to seal up the cracks and a new coat of paint to match. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… wanna think about the past anymore,” Evan says to the quiet room. “That’s not us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor breathes out slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Evan says. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor relaxes his hands on Evan’s back. Evan pulls him in close, wraps a leg around Connor’s and holds him tight, tries to squeeze the </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> into every cell of Connor’s being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor takes in a shaky breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t believe it. Evan can tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Evan’s nothing if not determined, so it’ll happen. One day the topic of their complicated past will come up and Connor will believe him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan will make it happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's sure of it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gib me ur thoughts and opinions blease</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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